


Twyla Hale

by FiccinDylan



Series: Derek Hale's Biracial Children [1]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biracial Character, Black Character(s), Black hair care, Character Study, Complete, Deadbeat Mom, Kid Fic, Miscommunication, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), rage fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: After the formula of their go-to product changes, "Hair Day" becomes "Hell Day" in the Hale Pack household.  It's time for Derek to call in the pros, imagine his surprise when he's presented with a wicked tongued white boy with honey brown eyes.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> No disrespect to Braeden will be found here. This ended up becoming kind of a character study for her with a stereky backdrop and I couldn't be more pleased. Enjoy!

** 

* * *

***

She watches as Derek swaddles the child, _ever_ so gently, concentrating hard on trying to tuck the blanket just right to make the baby feel safe and secure. To make her feel the way he wants his love to. It’s something he learned from his dad, she thinks. She’s sure it’s true. She has no doubt that Derek’s dad probably did this to him when he was born. That as they had more and more children, his dad probably taught Derek how to do this for his younger siblings. The ones he doesn’t have anymore. She smiles gently as she listens to him coo at their baby.

Their baby… her name is Twyla, she’d insisted, it was her mother’s name. She was her mother’s only daughter though she was her father’s youngest. She’s sure Twyla will be the only kid she’ll ever have so she might as well give her something of her family. Something of hers. It was all she had to give.

“Derek?” She calls out to him. He only half hears, the rest of his world being consumed by the tiny creature he rocks in the cradle of his arms. Twy’s eyes are closed, but Braeden knows that behind the baby’s lids lie eyes as seafoam green and mysterious as her father’s. Her Daddy’s.

“Derek.” She says again, a little more insistent and finally drawing his attention. He looks over at her, his smile sleepy and filled with unconditional love. There’s a peace there, a finality in his expression as though she hadn’t just delivered 5lbs 7oz of human matter, but rather a miracle. A promise of the future and a cleansing of the past all rolled into a bundle, swaddled by a blanket with a soft yellow moon embroidered on it, surrounded by constellations of stars. She’d given him his star.

“Hmm?” He answers, still only halfway paying attention. She can see his other senses at play, sniffing out pain, a change in mood, anything to indicate her discomfort, and when that doesn’t work, he finally pries his eyes from the baby and raises an eyebrow at Braeden. “You alright, Brae? Do you need anything?” He asks. As though he’d set the baby down for a second to do anything in that exact moment. She imagines it for a moment- asking for a glass of lemonade and watching him scale a tree one handed, tucking a lemon branch behind his ear as he leaps with the baby pressed protectively into his chest. She smiles, well, she tries. She settles more on a grin, but it’s stifled by the fact that Braeden wants lemonade. And she might even want Derek specifically to get it for her. And she’s always been a woman who knows what she wants, and more specifically she’s always been a person that trusts herself when she knows what she doesn’t want. And as she looks around the room at what she has, the answers become clear as to which category everything inside the room fits.

She looks at Derek and Twyla, with her own sort of finality settling in her expression, and she sighs.

“I can’t do this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair Day becomes Hell Day, and Derek looks for some help!

“Twyla Natalia Hale, you get down here, _now_!” Derek yells for his little girl from the bottom of the stairs where he’s holding a bag of hair supplies and a jar of _Naturally Yours_ shea pomade. He stills for a moment, listening for her heartbeat. She’s in the closet in her room. She knows he knows exactly where she is, but she’s a Hale, and she’s not going to give up anytime soon. 

Derek sighs. “Orange Blossom, c’mon! It won’t be so bad this time!”

“That’s what you said last time, but it was!” he hears Twyla say insistently from her hiding place. He can’t fault her that one. They’d been using the same brand of products for Twyla’s wild curls for years, but recently something in the formula changed. Derek could smell it instantly, but wasn’t sure what to do about it. What used to be a fun couple of hours of detangling and instilling life lessons to his daughter quickly became an ordeal of broken combs, brittle and breaking hair, and tears. Big, fat werewolf tears and declarations that just because Twyla could heal, didn’t mean she didn’t feel the pain. Not just the pain of her hair being inelegantly yanked from her scalp, but the emotional pain from the disappointment she knew her daddy felt. No matter how much he told her it wasn’t about her. 

It was maybe a small thing, but Twyla is small and so to her everything is big. And for Derek, Twyla is enormous so everything to him is even moreso. A trait of the Hale’s that Derek wasn’t so thrilled to pass down was their internalization of fault. Twyla knows she’s different in a way that matters for some reason that she still can’t put a name too. Even though she loves Erica and her Aunt Cora, she understands they don’t have the same issues with their hair that she does and thus, it must mean something is wrong with her, right? 

Derek could see this thought process in his young one’s mind and it killed him. He couldn’t let her go on thinking she was less than the perfect being she is. He sighs and walks to the bathroom to put the hair bag away. He looks at the product that had done them so well for so long and throws it in the trash. After hearing a scuffle behind him, he looks back and sees Twyla standing cautiously in the doorway.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry, I just, I can’t-”

Derek shakes his head and shushes her gently. He goes to one knee and holds his hands out as his daughter runs and leaps into his arms. She ducks her head into his neck and whines lowly into his chest as Derek’s heart breaks. 

“Don’t worry, Orange Blossom. None of this is your fault. We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” He feels Twyla nod slightly while still sniffling. She looks up and her hazel eyes beam up at him matching not only in color to his, but full of the exact same kind of trust and love. She smiles a bit and nods before shrieking as he begins to tickle her. 

He falls back to the floor with her in his arms and she smiles, still giggling, before kissing him on the cheek. 

“Can I wear one of my Brae’sball caps today?” Derek rolls his eyes, and tries to make it appear fond. Braeden hasn’t been in the picture for years and it’s a decision he’s come to terms with. She doesn’t expect Twyla to call her mom no more than Derek expects for her to be one. She is involved, which Derek still can’t quite tell is a positive thing. Derek is clearly the parent, but a part of him is resentful that Braeden is always going to be just out of Twyla’s reach. Thankfully, Twyla doesn’t seem to be reaching too hard. Derek suspects she sees Braeden as an eccentric traveling aunt, but just a little more. Derek told Braeden about the hair issue and Braeden sent about a half dozen bedazzled baseball caps in different colors. She told Derek that the only hair advice she could offer was about which area of India had the best yakki, and she laughed when Derek told her that Twyla was still too young for baby’s first sew-in. Braeden sent the hats as a joke, but Twyla loved them, especially recently after “hair day” became “hell day”. 

Derek smiles and nods as Twyla runs to her room to grab one of the caps. He watches after her and can’t help the feeling of wanting to break into tears. He would do anything for his little girl, but he didn’t know how to fix this. A firm hand clasps on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, Alpha. You’re doing your best.” 

Derek turns and looks at Boyd standing like a pillar of strength behind him. Derek has leaned on him for much more, so he trusts his assertion of the situation, but is still worried.

“Thanks, Boyd. But… what if my best isn’t good enough?” Derek sighs as Boyd guides him into the kitchen and put some water in a pot for tea. While they wait, Derek talks. 

“I looked on the internet and found that there sometimes was a difference between black hair and biracial hair, and then I saw that I had to figure out Twyla’s curl pattern, but it can sometimes be different depending on the season? There was a whole thing about protective styles and then something about protein treatments? The only thing that was 100% conclusive is that chemical perms are forms of child abuse and if I want to straighten her hair I have to do it another way. But also straightening her hair just to make it more manageable might be racist and my little girl won’t think she’s beautiful? And I can’t fucking have that, Boyd!”

“Holy shit, Derek, breathe!” Boyd holds out his hands and inhales and exhales deeply, prompting Derek to follow his example. He does, and after a moment, Boyd is chuckling while shaking his head at his frustrated alpha. 

“Look, Derek. The world of black hair care is littered with political mines, I get that, and you’re not alone, okay?”

Derek huffs in exasperation, “It’s so complicated! And I just want Twyla to be her smiling, happy self. We haven’t had a Hale like that in a long time, I don’t want to make her grumpy over something like this. How do you deal with hair stuff?”

Boyd raises an eyebrow and points to his clearly bald head. Derek rolls his eyes, 

“Alicia-”

“Has been dead for years, Derek. And she was only 9, I don’t know what my Mama did to her hair. I remember Blue Magic, Sulfer 8 and castor oil; things that should probably not be within distance of Twyla’s hair or an open flame.”

Derek is apologetic, but still frustrated, “What the hell am I supposed to do, Boyd? _Oww_!” He yells after Boyd delivers a slap to the back of his head. Derek glares at him, though not in disbelief, his second has always made his number one task to keep the alpha in line… by any means necessary. 

“Call a professional, Derek!” Boyd spits out. He puts up his hands to interrupt Derek’s coming rebuttal and continues on, “Take her to a salon!” 

Derek opens his mouth to protest, but then stops, thinking briefly about the idea. He remembers Erica watching _Beauty Salon_ and telling him about the community aspect of a black hair salon. Twyla could benefit from that, right? But does Beacon Hills even have one?

“I can see by the look on your face, you’re thinking about _Beauty Salon_ , which we’ll tackle later, but in the meantime, no, Beacon Hills does not have a black hair salon.” 

“What? Then why-” Derek stops and steps back as he sees Boyd readying his flicking finger. He then turns back to the counter and pulls a card from his briefcase. 

“My mom has coyly been dropping hints about Twy’s hair lately and I saw this morning she left this in my briefcase after I took her to church on Sunday. It’s only in Meadow Heights which is about 20 minutes away.” 

Derek takes a card and looks at it, 

“ _Ms. Berniece’s Crowning Glory Hair Salon_?” He says with a patented Hale brow. On the back of the card are several black women with braids, straight styles and curly waves. Derek looks at Boyd who just shrugs. 

“Ms. Berniece is a staple, she’s been doing hair for decades, I got my first fade in her shop. You’re not going to get better and you certainly can’t do any worse.”

Derek sighs, he wants to try for his baby girl, but he doesn’t know this Berniece woman and what if she just makes things worse? What if she’s great?

“Daddy? Are you gonna take me to see Ms. Berniece?” Derek turns to see his daughter standing sheepishly in the doorway. She’s wearing a white t-shirt with a yellow sunflower on it and a white “brae’sball cap” with yellow jewels all around it. Her hair sticks out in a poof in the back. Derek will never get over how beautiful she is. 

“Yes, Orange Blossom. I’m going to call and make an appointment.” 

Twyla screams and runs into her daddy’s arms. He grins into her neck, relishing in the scent of her happiness as he hugs her tight. He knows instantly he’s made the right decision. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Twyla head to the salon, and are in store for more than one surprise!

“I’ve made a terrible decision.”

Derek’s navigation leads him towards the shop and as the street numbers go up, so does his blood pressure. Well, it would if he weren’t a wolf.

“It’s going to be good, Daddy!” Twyla says buckled in safely behind him. Derek huffs, irritable as the light changes yellow just before he reaches the intersection. Someone behind him honks as he stops and it takes everything to keep his claws in.

“Daddy, you gotta chill!”

It’s an expression she’s gotten from her monthly calls from Brae. She soaks up every detail. As she gets older she knows more and more that Braeden should feel like someone she’s missing, and moments like these help her to understand why. Derek hates it.

“Your hair is beautiful, you know that, right baby girl?” Derek asks as they cruise down Main St looking for a parking spot.

“Yes, alpha! We’re just going to make sure _it_ knows _it’s_ beautiful so it can show that beauty to the world.” Twyla recites. Derek did break down and watch _Beauty Salon_ on cable. He knew better than to expect it to be a 100% match, but he thought maybe he could use some tips. Shit, he forgot to get cash for a tip.

“Ooh Daddy, you said a bad word!” Twyla laughs excitedly from the back as she looks in each window they drive past trying to find the salon. Derek ignores her and turns a corner and suddenly there it is.

The wall outside the salon is decorated in graffiti of young girls riding down rainbows of hair and jumping rope with box braids. Twyla inhales and looks close to tears as she starts to tug at her seatbelt.

“Daddy look! There it is, look!”

“I see it, Orange Blossom!” And it was definitely the place. _Ms. Berneice_ was calligraphy’d on the window with a giant crown atop it and the ‘e’ at the end of her name rounding out into a ponytail.

“ _Ms. Berneice’s Crowning Glory Hair Salon_.” Twyla reads reverently, “Did you know that sometimes church ladies call their hats _crowns_ , but when they say _crowning glory_ that means hair?”

“Where did you learn that, Orange Blossom?” Derek asks. Twyla shrugs.

“ _The Wire_.” She says nonchalantly. Derek nearly runs into the car in front of him.

“What?! Why do you know that show? Who are you watching it with?”

“I can’t tell you, Daddy.” Twyla says with a smirk on her face, “A girl’s gotta have a code.”

“Twyla Natalia Hale!” Derek chides, flashing his red eyes in the rearview mirror. Twyla is completely unaffected, something Derek already knows he’s going to regret as she gets older.

“Daddy, I’m kidding!” She assures, flashing her beta golds in deference, “Uncle Isaac told me to say that and you would get real red and grouchy, but in a funny way and he was right.”

Twyla bursts into a fit of giggles and Derek can never stay mad about that for long. He was gonna kick Isaac’s ass later.

“You said another bad word, Daddy!” Twyla admonishes with wide eyes. Derek sighs and parks before reaching into the console and pulling out a dollar of quarters. He hands Twyla two.

“For the jar at home?”

Twyla nods, understanding her new responsibility as she carefully puts the coins into her fanny pack. While she’s preoccupied, Derek looks at the storefront one more time and then exhales, getting out and walking to the door to help his daughter.

“You ready for this, Orange Blossom?” Derek asks, still more nervous than his daughter who nods excitedly.

“Yeah, Daddy, let’s go!”

___***___

 

Derek wasn’t sure what to expect as they crossed the threshhold into Ms. Berneice’s. If _Beauty Salon_ told him anything, he’d expect rambunctious music, lot of loose bundles of hair, sass and life lessons. What he got when he entered, Twyla holding on tightly to his hand trying both to hide behind his leg and push him in further, was… pretty on par.

Music flowed through the place, it sounded like gospel, the kind Boyd’s mom would insist Derek change his station to whenever he had to fill in for Boyd Sunday mornings. There was a group of women sitting expectantly in the waiting area leafing through old magazines, and a play area where little boys were playing with cars and games as their moms, who were getting their own hair done, watch from their chairs, or _thrones_ as Twyla would probably start calling them.

There were three other stylists besides the one that Derek assumed was Ms. Berneice, and an empty chair with a homemade graffiti sign over it labeled “ _Stiles’ Braiding Station_ ”. Derek wondered about the misspelling, was it a cool hip thing? Wouldn’t the ‘y’ look better? Either way, does that sentence even makes sense? Why is there an apostrophe?

“Daddy! Stop staring, you’re being weird!” Twyla hisses at him, her head lolled so far back, her brae’sball cap was starting to flip off. Derek grimaces slightly and looks around at… the many pairs of eyes staring back at him now. Some were curious, some skeptical, a few were… appreciative _ahem_ , and one in particular was filled with nothing but kindness.

“Welcome to _Ms. Berneice’s Crowning Glory_ , baby! I’m Ms. Berneice!” Berneice Lattimore was a 5’ 9” woman who had a slim, but solid build and a toothy smile that could melt even the steeliest of hearts. Derek found himself smiling instantly as he reached out a hand to the woman. Her skin was smooth and warm, but on her palms you could feel the callous of practice and use. She had a firm grip that had a personality in it that was only matched by the glint in her eyes. Derek couldn’t tell you an age which is good because _Beauty Salon_ and Boyd had warned him against guessing, but he knew she was wise beyond whatever her years were. She wore a denim oversized newsboy hat that held her natural curls back from her face and she moved her smock out of the way as she crouched down to address Twyla.

“Well hello there, little bit! My name is Ms. Berneice, what’s your name?”

Twyla, remembering her manners, smiles shyly and waves.

“I’m Twyla Hale and this is my daddy.” Twyla says, giving Derek’s hand another squeeze and tugging him slightly to actually say something. Derek clears his throat.

“Hi, uhh… Ms. Berneice. My name is Derek Hale, I made an appointment and we were recommended by Mrs. Boyd?”

“Ahh yes, Mother Boyd down at _Morning Side_ , such a wonderful woman. How do you know the Boyd’s, son?”

“Uhh, Boyd… well, umm, Vernon… the third-” Derek was nearly sweating, he wasn’t sure what he was so nervous about, but something about this woman’s presence both intimidated and comforted him. He felt the need to be polite and stand up straight and maybe even offer to fix her roof or take a look at the plumbing. “He’s my second. He’s in my pack.” He stops suddenly, werewolves were known, but not a lot of people tended to acknowledge them. Twyla was a wolf and Derek wanted to make sure she was always proud and respected her heritage. He huffs a sigh of relief as Ms. Berneice nods knowingly.

“Don’t worry, honey. We are lupine friendly here,” Berneice winks at him, “The Boyd’s came and explained the situation up in Beacon Hills after their son was changed. So we’re slightly in the know, and the young man who does braids used to run with a pack up near Sacramento.”

“Young man?” Derek asks curiously, “You have a guy do the braiding?”

“Why of course, baby! Why not?” Ms. Berneice laughs and slaps Derek on the back, “And if you think that’s a surprise, wait until you actually see him!”

As if on cue, the door opens and a young man, skin white as the half and half that Jeanquisha, the shampoo girl, was stirring into Derek’s coffee, comes bustling in.

“Hey, everyone!” He calls out jovially and everyone returns the greeting in their own way.

“Hey, Stiles!” Jeanquisha says as she passes off the cup to Derek.

“Hey, baby!” Ms. Berneice calls out with a sweet wave.

“Stiles, did you bring the hair for the Senegalese twists?” Shouts out Doris from the stockroom.

“Do you, umm… do you need help?” Derek asks politely. Stiles stops suddenly, trying to see if Marie has a hell of a cold, or if that was indeed a new voice. He has his hands full of bags filled with packets of hair and he’s balancing a couple of hat boxes precariously in front of him. Derek sets down his coffee and picks up the two most obtrusive items.

“Oh my god, thanks so much, one of the boxes slipped and I was going blind for a- _uhh…_ ummm…” Stiles’ eyes are comically wide as they meet Derek’s stare. And make no mistake, Derek _was_ staring. To the alpha’s surprise, the young man had a voice that was surprisingly deep and adult for someone who looked so cherubic. His eyes were the color of burnt sugar and sparkled under long, thick lashes. He had impossibly high cheekbones and a pink pout with the sharpest cupid’s bow Derek has ever seen. He notices a smattering of moles along the young man’s jawline and it takes everything in him not to snarl.

He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Wherever Twyla was concerned -which was everywhere- Derek simply didn’t have time to _want_. Normally if someone caught his eye, it was usually another parent or some checkout person at _Bed, Bath & Beyond_. Derek would just hand wave it away, but this time, there was a hand waving at him, but it wasn’t away.

“Oh, uhh, hello! I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. I’m a braider here.” The young man points to the suspect sign Derek was studying earlier, “That’s my station back there, _Stiles’ Braiding Station_ , and no, it’s not a typo, just my name! I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this, you are… so _h- h-t-_ ”

“Height?” Derek repeats cautiously. Stiles sighs in relief, seemingly as someone stopping a verbal train of embarrassment that was going to continue full-speed ahead until Derek said something. Stiles breathes a couple of times and then grins.

“Uhh, yes... _height_ , and I’ll give you 10% off any services if you promise never to ask me to explain that.”

“Deal!” Derek agrees almost giddily. He stops suddenly, trying to control himself. What was his problem. .

Stiles laughs again and leads Derek to his station where he starts dropping off his bags. Twyla is already there looking at magazines. Wasting no time, she shows a picture to Stiles.

“Hi, Mr. Stiles, my name is Twyla Hale and Ms. Marie said you were the head braider and I was wondering if you could braid my hair like this.” She holds out the magazine and there’s a picture of Zendaya. Derek notices a fairly intricate braid style, but he mostly notices all the makeup the young woman is wearing. He doesn’t like that at all. He grimaces as Stiles crouches to Twyla’s level and grins, reaching forward and looking at her comfortingly.

“Do you mind if I take off your cap, Twyla?” he asks gently, “It’s very pretty, but I wanna see what I’m working with.”

Twyla hesitates a little, looking at her dad quickly who still seems to be a bit shellshocked. This causes the precocious little girl to rolls her eyes as she smiles back, nodding. Stiles reaches forward and takes off the cap gently, placing it on the seat beside him. He pats the top of her head, feeling a curl from root to end and then holds up the picture of the Hollywood starlet contemplatively.

“Sweetie, when I get done with your hair, Zendaya is gonna bring me pictures of _you!”_ he says with a wink. Twyla squeals and then runs to her daddy, wrapping herself around his leg finally snapping him out of his own reverie.

“Wait, _what_?” Derek says, looking again at the picture of the young woman with the smoky cat eye and deep cut jacket, “Uhh, I mean, Twyla, sweetie, go talk to Ms. Berneice for a second while I talk to Mr… _Stiles_.” Derek tells her, pointing her in the direction of Berneice who is sitting at her station sipping tea and looking through a catalogue.

“Oh hello!” She says, as though just noticing Twyla coming up to her and not like she’s been intimately tuned into their interaction the entire time. She shows Twyla something in the book and very honestly asks for her most serious opinion. Just like a Hale, Twyla takes it very much to heart and starts to craft a response. Derek looks back at Stiles who is trying not to look offended, but Derek imagines he can’t hide much on a face as open and lovely as that.

Lovely, but in this case maybe too presumptuous! Yeah, no matter how gorgeous this guy was - not that he was gorgeous- Derek had to protect the innocence and confidence of his baby girl, even if it meant being a bit… assertive with his concerns. He couldn’t let this pouty mouthed cutie set unrealistic expectations for his daughter. He barely let her wear chapstick and if she thought he was letting her get _near_ a tube of mascara-

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Hale?” Stiles asks breaking the silence and pre-emptively crossing his arms over his chest, as if readying for a fight. Normally Derek would be just as eager to throw down, but being a parent has softened him in the strangest ways. He was here for Twyla and he had to keep that in mind that he was probably more scared of her growing up, then actually having this guy work on her hair. Derek sighs and tries to put together what he wants to say.

“So, okay, I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I brought Twyla here for the whole… salon experience.” Stiles nods and shrugs and Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, steeling himself to continue, “the _black_ salon experience?”

Stiles’ mouth forms an ‘O’ and Derek tries his hardest not to fall over. Shit, he was fucking up every chance with this kid, not that he wanted a chance, or did he? It didn’t matter, he wanted first and foremost to do right by his little girl.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re very gifted and l know it shouldn’t matter and maybe it doesn’t, but…. what message am I sending if I bring my biracial daughter to a black hair salon just for some white guy to do her hair?” Stiles bristles a bit, causing Derek to stutter, but he continues on, “I mean, she gets that at home which is why we had to come here in the first place. I swear, they changed the formula of that pomade and I didn’t know what else to do and-”

“So just because I’m white means I can’t do black hair?” Stiles interrupts. Derek knows he should stop talking, Stiles is obviously here for a reason, but he can’t stop himself.

“No, I mean, I’m sure you’re good, but do you even understand the intricacies of the pH balance of black hair? I’ve been doing a lot of research and-”

“So you went on Google and now you’re an expert?”

“No! Oh god, no!” Derek waves his hands in front of him, he’s finally noticing the fiery glint in Stiles’ eyes. What was Derek even doing, this man was here to help him and here he was making assumptions and insulting the kid’s profession, “That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“That’s racist, Mr. Hale! You sir, are a reverse racist!” Stiles hisses out, poking Derek in the chest. Derek looks down at the spot poked and then back up at Stiles, confused.

“ _Racist_?! But you’re whi-, wait, _what_?”

Stiles’ brow raises as he watches Derek’s face scrunch up and he begins laughing heartily. Derek can’t help his own grin. Shit, he was an idiot.

“Mr. Hale-”

“Derek.” Derek insists as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Stiles reaches a hand forward and sets it on Derek’s shoulder.

“Look, I get it. That’s your baby girl and you would do anything for her, but we live in a world where her needs have coding to them and you’re just trying to figure out the code.”

Derek could cry at that moment, elated that someone finally understands what he’s been going through.

“Exactly. I just… I want her to have the world.”

“That’s why you’re a good dad, obviously. I was just teasing you with the reverse racism thing, that shit’s not real.”

“Ooh, Mr. Stiles! You said a bad word!” Seemingly from nowhere Twyla appears at Stiles’ side with her hand outstretched expectantly. Stiles looks at Derek who raises a brow and indicates to his daughter’s palm. Stiles looks back at Twyla and the resemblance is uncanny.

“Uhh, well, I….” Stiles stammers as he pats his front pockets (missing Derek’s traveling gaze) and looks back at the girl. “I might be a little short there, Sweetie, oh-” Stiles feels a coin drop discreetly into his back pocket and locks eyes with Derek who is still leveling him with the same look though this time there’s a gentle humor there. Derek takes a quick glance at Twyla and then at Stiles throwing him a small wink. Stiles nods and then checks his back pocket, pulling out a shiny quarter.

He hands the coin off to Twyla who places it responsibly along with the others into her fanny pack. While she’s busy, Stiles looks up at Derek with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. Derek can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“Thanks for keeping me on my toes, sweetie.” Stiles says, patting her head lightly. Twyla beams as Stiles looks at Derek.

“Derek, I understand your concerns and I want you to know I’ve been braiding for 6 years professionally and helping with the hair here for the last two. Still, I know what you’re looking for, so we’re gonna have Jeanquisha do little miss’s shampoo and deep condition and after we dry it, Ms. Marie and I are going to come up with a style that will be easy to maintain and make you look like a queen, how does that sound?” Although Stiles changed from talking to Derek, to addressing Twyla, Derek didn’t mind. In fact he loved it. Finally someone was paying attention to his daughter’s hair in a way that was fun and made her feel good about herself. Twyla loved it too.

She excitedly grabs Stiles’ hand and pulls him with her to the shampoo station. Stiles laughs again, looking back at Derek.

“How about you, Daddy?” Stiles says. Derek… gulps.

“Uhh… what?” Did Stiles just call Derek, _D_ -

“Twyla’s hair. The plan? Does that work for you?” Stiles looks at Derek expectantly who just shrugs and nods stupidly.

Of course it worked for Derek, Twyla was elated, though he understood why Stiles needed an answer, he couldn’t quite figure out why he couldn’t give one. Maybe it was because most of his energy was being used to not grab at his crotch.

“Daddy, you smell funny, are you okay?” Twyla looks at him concerned. Derek clears his throat.

“It’s fine, sweetie, go… do that thing?” Derek… somethings. Twyla just shrugs and runs the rest of the way to the shampoo station. Stiles picks up the yellow cap and holds it out to Derek who takes it, trying his damndest not to blush.

“Thanks for the quarter assist.” Stiles whispers softly, before gazing once more at Derek and turning to go to the shampoo station to mix together a conditioner for Twyla. Derek can’t help the way his eyes follow, especially with the slight sway in Stiles’ hips. Derek hears someone clear their voice and his head snaps over to where Berneice is in her chair sipping her tea. She pats the empty seat beside her.

“Why don’t you come here and sit with me while you wait, Mr. Hale? You can finish your coffee.” Berneice motions towards the now tepid cup, but Derek nods and obediently sits down to watch.

“Most parents leave their kids here, but you seem like the type that’s going to stick around for a bit.” Berneice says kindly, dividing Derek’s attention as he tries to listen to her and watch what’s happening with his daughter… and maybe a little with Stiles.

“Yeah, yeah…” Derek trails, finally looking at the wizened older woman, “So what’s the deal with Stiles?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More time at the salon, and Derek learns a little more about Stiles.

“Like, what’s his _deal_?” Derek asks, trying to appear nonchalant though grimacing as he sips at the now lukewarm coffee. Berneice grins as Derek finally just sets the cup aside.

“The deal?” She asks far too knowingly. Derek nods.

“Yeah, I mean… why have a white guy in a black hair salon?”

“Well why not, Mr. Hale?” Berneice asks simply. Derek, still distracted by the way Stiles’ fingers flex as he sorts beads into different bowls while Twyla gets her hair washed, shrugs.

“Please, call me Derek. And I don’t mean to offend, it’s just, I thought black hair salons were supposed to be about community.”

“ _Beauty Salon_ was on cable recently?” Berneice asks coyly sips her tea. Derek blushes and nods, feeling a sense of safety in his confessions of ignorance. Berneice looks at Derek so deeply he can feel the warmth of her gaze in his soul. She leans into him.

“Beauty salons _are_ about community, Derek, and Stiles is a part of that community.” She looks over at the boy who is applying the deep conditioner to Twyla’s hair. Twyla is laughing excitedly at Stiles and Jeanquisha fake arguing about something. Derek looks back at Ms. Berneice.

“Stiles is just like one of my babies. I admit, I get that he confuses a lot of people at first glance, but the second he opens his heart to you, it’s hard to not become a mother hen. He’s loyal and passionate about the people he loves and he’s an extraordinary worker. My cousin, her name was Tara Graeme, used to work at the PD where Stiles’ dad is the sheriff. She was killed in a freak accident, some wily creature on the loose - as they are wont to do around these parts.” She’s wistful while she talks, Derek can see the pain in her eyes, but also the resolve as she considers Stiles again.

“Siles was the one who delivered the news. I knew who he was immediately from the stories Tara would tell, and I could tell how hurt he was by her death. He loved her just as much as she loved him, and I could tell she loved him by how much she would complain in my chair about her boss’s brat of a son.”

At this Derek laughs, absolutely sure that Berneice isn’t exaggerating. There was something endearing about Stiles’ petulant energy. He could imagine the young man had a knack for being annoying and affectionate in equal amounts. He wanted to find out.

“One day one of our braiders burned themselves in the middle of a head and Stiles stepped in like he was made to do it. He didn’t wait for permission or for anyone to ask him about his credentials, he just stepped in and did a fantastic job. A lot of people side-eye him at first, but they shut up when he’s done.”

“I wish I could shut up around him. I feel like my jaw hurts from how much I stuck my foot in my mouth.” Derek mumbles as he watches his daughter bravely jabbering away to Stiles about her day. Berneice chuckles.

“Well he’s certainly got you stupefied, doesn’t he?”

“Hmm?” Derek hums, clearly not paying attention.

“Mesmerized… Derek?”

“Uhh, yes, I’m… _that_. Wait, what?” Derek says, finally snapping his attention back to Berneice who was now openly smirking at him.

“From all his skill, of course.”

“Uhh.. yeah,” Derek says, furrowing his brow and still trying to figure out what was happening. “I’m mesmerized by his… _skill_.” He clears his throat and blushes as Berneice reaches out and slaps him lightly on the arm.

“I was trying to be coy, but I think that sounded more suggestive than just saying you want a piece!”

“Oh my god!” Derek exclaims as Berneice laughs loudly and pats Derek on the back who is rubbing the bridge of his nose and trying not to smile.

“A piece of what, daddy?” Twyla says from where she’s getting her conditioning treatment rinsed out. Berneice’s jaw drops guiltily, she’d clearly forgotten about the stellar hearing of wolves. Twyla twists her head trying to see, “Do you have candy?!” She’s getting water all over the place and Derek shakes his head.

“What did I tell you about listening in on adult conversations, Orange Blossom? And stop moving! You’re sloshing water everywhere!”

“Sorry, alpha!” Twyla yells, finally staying still. In the stillness Derek notices a lot of eyes on him, including Stiles’ which go from shocked to extremely interested. “I just wanted some candy!”

“I’ll give you some after, now be good!”

“Okay, daddy!” Twyla yells before happily humming to herself while Jeanquisha wraps a huge towel around her head. Derek turns to Berneice who is giving him an undefinable look.

“So… you’re an alpha?” Berneice asks, chancing a look over Derek’s shoulder. Derek wants to follow her gaze, but stops himself.

“Uhh yeah, of Beacon Hills and the plains area heading south. We don’t have any wolves up here that I know of so that’s probably why you didn’t know. And Boyd always acts like he’s in charge.”

“Little Vernie does have an air of authority about him since he got the change, but he’s always been very reverential of you. Speaks highly of his alpha, I should have put two and two together.”

Derek shrugs, “I bet you were expecting some 6’7”, 300lb behemoth and not a fussy single dad.”

Berneice simply smiles and watches as Derek starts to fidget with his hands, she can tell it’s killing him not to look and see Stiles’ reaction to him being single.

“Uhh, sorry about the all the water mess, I can go over there and help clean it up.” Derek says, pointing a thumb.

Berneice looks at Derek softly, “you’re fine.” She says simply before reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing it gently and looking at him knowingly.

“You’re doing _just_ fine.”

___***___

A couple of hours and two _Barbershop_ movies later (“ _I like to stay on brand!”_ Ms. Berneice explained), Stiles turns the chair and carefully hands Twyla a large mirror. She looks into it and squeals.

“Daddy, look at it! Look at my hair!!” She twirls in place excitedly and bounces on her feet waiting for Derek to respond. Derek is flummoxed.

“Orange Blossom, it’s beautiful!” He says, and he’s right. She has a style that is unique and is something Twyla will be talking about for the next few days he assumes. There are intricate little braids that give way to curly little tendrils. Her hair is shiny and lustrous and there’s even a little heart seemingly woven into the braids?

“How did you get my hair to do this, Mr. Stiles?!” Twyla asks for both her and Derek as she sproings one of the ringles and giggles in delight. Stiles bends over and fusses over her hair while she beams at herself in the mirror.

“I’ll tell you what, sweet pea, I’m going to give your daddy a few things to help maintain the style and when you come back next time I’ll share a couple of secrets with you.” He winks at Twyla who wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a big kiss on the cheek. This time it’s Stiles who blushes. Derek can’t help but find it adorable.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out of business, stealing all your industry secrets.” Derek says to Stiles though he can’t fully take his eyes off of Twyla. He’s blown away by the pure joy on his daughter’s face. She’s absolutely beaming and happier about her hair than she’s been in a long time. She looks ready to burst into tears and Derek might join her.

“Don’t worry, Derek, I could tell you all my secrets, but the first one is that it’s all in the execution. You’d get by, but no one can do it like I can.” Stiles is putting things away, but Derek wasn’t born yesterday and he knows a flirt when he hears one. Stiles looks back at Twyla and then at Derek.

“So… Daddy likes it?” This kid was going to kill him, and Derek’s only surprise is how much he’s willing to allow it. He looks at Stiles quickly with wide eyes and is met with a firm and flirtatious gaze. Derek smirks.

“Yeah, Daddy likes it.”

Derek pays and throws in a big extra tip that gives Berneice the hiccups. She looks between the two men and tucks the check into her bra, exchanging it for an appointment card for next time.

“Well it was right as rain making your acquaintance, Ms. Twyla Hale.” Berneice says, bending down to Twyla who is still grinning so hard it looks like her cheeks are going to pop off.

“Thank you, Ms. Berneice, yours too! And you, Mr. Stiles!” Twyla hugs Stiles and Ms. Berneice before grabbing Derek’s hand.

“Thank you both, you don’t know what this means to us.” Derek shakes Berneice’s hand and then Stiles’. It’s warm and firm and fits into his grip perfectly.

“See you next week, Derek.” Stiles says.

“Yeah.” Derek says, still shaking his hand.

“Umm, Daddy, let’s go home, I wanna show Auntie Cora and Auntie ‘Rica, and Uncle Boyd and-”

“Okay, Orange Blossom…” Derek says while still looking at Stiles and _still_ shaking his hand.

“Hey Stiles, what’s the name of that song that ice girl sang in that movie?” Marie calls out from her station where she’s sitting and reading a magazine. Stiles finally breaks Derek’s gaze and looks at her confused.

“What? You mean _Frozen_? _Let it Go_?” He asks as Marie nods and then looks down at the mens’ still intertwined hands.

“Oh!” Stiles says as he finally lets go and pockets his digits for lack of anything better to do. Derek clears his throat and waves and starts following Twyla -who is still gushing over her new ‘do- to the door.

Right as they’re about to leave Twyla turns back.

“Oh no, Daddy! We almost forgot my brae’sball cap!” Twyla says, looking frantically around for her cap. Ms. Berneice produces it from beside the chair where she and Derek were sitting and Twyla holds it close to her.

“Don’t you mean _‘baseball’_ , sweet pea?” Stiles asks, grinning at the object that clearly holds a lot of meaning for the girl. Twyla shakes her head.

“No! It’s called ‘ _brae’sball’_ because my Brae gave them to me!”

“What’s a _brae_?” Stiles asks, looking at Derek who has a lost look of utter shock on his face. Twyla grins.

“Brae is short for Braeden, and she’s my…. Umm… well, she’s-”

“She’s her- uhh, she’s Twyla’s-” Derek tries to supply an answer, but he’s completely like that ice girl from that movie.

“She’s your Braeden?” Stiles offers up much to the relief of both parties. Twyla giggles.

“Yeah! When the hair stuff changed it started hurting for Daddy to do my hair so I wouldn’t let him do it, but I had to do something to keep my hair out of the way so I could live my life.”

“Well, of course.” Stiles agrees, seemingly taken aback by the adorableness of it all. Derek is still looking around for a crevasse to fall into.

“So Braeden sent me this one and one of every color of the rainbow so I’d always have something that matched!”

“Well, it’s very pretty, sweet pea, I’m sure they all are.” Stiles says, fluffing up Twyla’s hair. Twyla’s face suddenly gets thoughtful and Derek finally catches up.

“What’s wrong, Orange Blossom?” He says, kneeling down to her level. She shrugs and tugs at a ringlet while looking at the hat.

“Nothing, really. I was just thinking I might not need these anymore.” Derek opened his mouth to say, well anything that would get the near crestfallen expression from his baby’s face, but Stiles beats him to it.

“Well you should keep them just in case, it looks like Braeden went to a lot of trouble to make them. And if you don’t wear them, you can hang them on your wall and they can be art!” he suggests excitedly flailing his arms out to the sides and grinning goofily at Twyla. Her mood lifts instantly and she looks at Derek.

“Can we, Daddy?!”

“Of course we can, Orange Blossom, anything you want.” Derek agrees, only slightly worried that he’s not entirely sure what he just agreed to, but he knows it doesn’t matter if it’s something that keeps his daughter in good spirits. “Let’s go, sweetie, wave goodbye to everyone.”

Derek and Twyla wave goodbye, Derek makes sure to mouth “thank you” again to Stiles, and they leave the shop and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a version of what I imagined with Twyla. 
> 
> Next update will be Sunday or Monday, thanks for coming along!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twyla has questions that Derek can't answer. And Derek and Stiles make plans.

On the ride home, it’s everything Derek can do to keep his eyes on the road and not in the rearview mirror to look at his little girl. 

“Orange Blossom, your hair looks amazing, how do you feel?” Derek asks excitedly. Twyla grins. 

“I love it a lot, Daddy.” She gets quiet and starts fidgeting with a bead on her brae’sball cap. Derek sighs. He’s sure he knows what’s coming. 

“Daddy, who is Braeden to me? I mean, really?” 

He can’t believe all this time has passed and he’s never told her, but if he’s honest, there’s always been a part of him that thought he would never have to. Everyone involved with their pack knew the situation and kept quiet about it, or at least discussed it out of earshot. At Twyla’s school there were enough same sex couples that most kids knew whether or not they had a mother’s day or a father’s day to celebrate so they never really felt left out. 

“Well, she’s… she’s very special to you, isn’t she?” Derek asks, meeting Twyla’s gaze in the mirror. It’s full of curiosity and a bit of longing. 

“Yes. I love her very much. Is she… is she my-”

“She’s your Braeden, baby.” Derek says as simply as he can, pulling his attention back to the road. He hears Twyla sigh. 

“Okay.”

Derek was a dick. Well, at the very least he was _being_ a dick and he knew it. Why couldn’t he just tell her the truth? They ride home in silence and she goes to show everyone her hair. There’s a bit of missing enthusiasm which Derek chalks up to her being tired. They were at the salon longer than Derek thought. 

After a dinner of being fawned over by the rest of the pack, Twyla tiredly makes her way upstairs to get ready for bed. 

“Daddy, do you have the scarf and stuff Mr. Stiles gave us for my hair?” She calls out halfway up the stairs. Derek realizes he left it out in the car and tells her he’ll met her upstairs. After running to the car, he flies upstairs and together they try to figure out how to tie the scarf like Ms. Marie showed them before they left the salon. 

“I think you fold it in half first, daddy, like a triangle!” Twyla says sleepily yet smiling at her daddy’s clumsiness. They finally get it into some semblance of a head covering and then Derek covers the entire thing with a satin bonnet. She giggles as he tucks her in, kissing her sweetly on the forehead. 

“We had a big day today, didn’t we, Orange Blossom?” Derek asks as he caresses her cheek. She nods happily. 

“It was fun, and everyone was super nice! Ms. Jeanquisha even warmed up the towel and it felt like my head was in a big marshmallow!”

“That sounds like fun!”

“It was!”

“Ms. Berneice is nice.”

“She is! I love her.” Twyla says, yawning big. Derek knows he should let her sleep, but he’s trying to wring every second from this moment. 

“You’ve got a very big heart.” He says, loving that a Hale exists that’s so open and trusting. He hopes she can hold onto that for as long as possible. 

“That’s what Mr. Stiles said!” Twyla exclaims, her eyes now fully closed. “He said he likes me and he likes you too. I heard him talking to Ms. Marie in the back while I was under the dryer.”

“Orange Blossom, what have I told you about eavesdropping?” Derek admonishes while trying to figure out how to ask what else Stiles said about him. 

“He said a bad word, something about the floor, I gotta get… another quarter from-” Twyla trails off and in seconds she’s asleep. Derek wonders about that naughty word as he turns out her light and walks to his room. He goes inside and unlocks his phone, pulling up the pictures of Twyla’s hair they took at the salon. Stiles is in one with Twyla perched on his knee, doing that that thing that kids do where they smile with their entire faces. Derek is on the edges of the picture, it looks like he’s looking at Twyla, but he knows he was also looking at Stiles. 

He was a vexing creature, not just in the beauty of his physicality, the way his fingers flitted through Twyla’s hair like there was an understanding between the two to work together to a greater goal. But there was a beauty in the promise of what Stiles represented. Derek rarely took time to think about his own dick outside of a rough shower jerk, but now he was thinking not only about his dick, and this kid’s sinfully pouty mouth wrapped around it, but also Stiles’ dick, and all the things he could do to it. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. After picking out a couple of pics, he attaches them to a text and presses send. A few moments later his phone rings. 

“Oh my god, Derek! She looks just like my mom, it’s crazy!” Braeden squeals over the phone. “Is she asleep yet? Can I talk to her?”

“She’s asleep, Brae, she had a long day today, but she can’t wait to talk to you about it.”

“Aww, that’s great!” she said, making kissy noises and babbling about the preciousness of their daughter. Derek clears his throat. 

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you before your call tomorrow.” Braeden was nomadic as a lifestyle and always on the move, but she insisted on wanting to be a part of Twyla’s life. Derek agreed, but told here there had to be consistency, so every month on the same day, Braeden would facetime in and she and Twyla would catch up. Twyla lived for these days and Derek knew she would have a laundry list of things to talk about the next day. 

“She asked me what you were to her.” Derek says simply. There’s a small silence before Braeden snorts. 

“Well I’m her mom, Derek, what else would I be?”

“Well, I mean-”

“Wait, what do you mean _she asked_? Doesn’t she know I’m here mom? I thought you told her a long time ago!”

“Braeden, calm down.” Derek hisses, regretting making the call in the first place. 

“Well, who does she think I am?”

“She thinks-” Derek steels himself, “-that you’re her… Brae.”

“Her _Brae_? Fucking _really_ , Derek!”

“You’re not here, you don’t know how hard-”

“What’s that even supposed to mean? My not being there isn’t new, that’s not an excuse!”

“Well I don’t know what the hell else to tell her.”

“You tell her I’m her fucking mom!”

“ _Well…_ ”

“Derek!”

He hated when it got like this. Normally it wouldn’t, they would talk and it would be fine, maybe terse and short, but fine. Sometimes it was even congenial with updates on their personal lives, little tales from Braeden’s travel or of whatever monster of the week would descend on Beacon Hills. But there were times where this happened and Derek hated it. It made him feel weak and insecure, having to defend himself from the decision he made to limit Braeden’s interaction in Twyla’s life. He couldn’t have Twyla thinking of Braeden the way she would think of a mom, someone who was _there_ and that put her first always. He wasn’t mad at Braeden from deciding early on she wasn’t cut out for the full motherhood treatment, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for not allowing her to fully fill that role in his daughter’s life. 

“I _am_ her mother, Derek. I gave birth to her and-”

“And then you fucking left, Braeden. You left her and you check in once a month-”

“Because that’s all that you’ll allow!”

“-and you disappear and I never know where the hell you are-”

“I’m an adult and I know how to manage my time for my daughter!”

“-and that’s not what moms do!” Derek is so angry his claws have popped and he can see the flow of his alpha reds in the darkness of his room. 

“If a man decides to go and find himself, it’s fine, but when a woman-”

“It has nothing to do with that, Braeden, it’s fucked up either way.”

“You said it was okay! _You_ said you were okay with it.”

“I know what I said, and I’m sorry, I just-”

“I told you I wasn’t ready the moment we found out I was pregnant, and you sat there with those tragic Hale eyes and I knew there’s no way you would let me get an-”

“Fucking hell, Braeden, _Tragic Hale Eyes_? What the fuck?!”

“You know what I’m talking about. And you promised me that you would be there for her.”

“And I am and I always will be. Listen, I’m not trying to… _fuck_ , whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I wouldn’t trade any of this. That girl is my world and she’s the most perfect thing and honestly the best thing we’re ever going to do with our fucked up lives! So fucking sue me if I don’t want to put her in a situation of knowing she has a mom that doesn’t want her!”

There’s a silence, rough and weighted yet dangling precariously between them. After a moment, Braeden sighs. 

“She’s the best thing you’ll ever do with _your_ life, and I get that, but I'm still out there living mine, Derek. I’m helping people, and I’m learning more than I ever thought I could. I wouldn’t trade this for anything either. But don’t for one second think that I don’t love that little girl, I just love myself more.”

“Of course you do. You find people for a living, but still can’t find your fucking self.”

“Fuck you, Derek!”

“You can’t be her mom if you’re not here!”

***___***

Derek heads downstairs to the kitchen where he see Boyd pouring two glasses of wolfsbane laced whiskey. He looks up when Derek enters the kitchen and sighs. 

“I know I shouldn’t have listened in, and normally I don’t, but when you started yelling I figured it might be good to get a handle on the situation.” Boyd says, sliding the glass towards his alpha who has perched himself on a bar stool and is laying his head on the cooling marble. 

“I don’t know what to fucking do, Boyd.” Derek says, looking longingly at the glass as though willing it to spill over and drip into his mouth by default. Boyd shakes his head and grabs a cocktail straw, bending it in half and plopping it in the drink before pushing the glass closer to Derek. He puckers his lips and takes a sip before looking gratefully at his beta. Boyd’s the only person he would trust to see him like this. 

“I get that it’s tough, Derek. Some think that because she gave birth to Twyla, that makes her the _‘mom’_ and I get how that feels like a slap in the face to you. On the other hand though, and I’m going to be blunt here, alpha-” Boyd pauses and Derek sits up, nodding. 

“Derek, your family was stolen from you, and you’ve worked hard to rebuild and create a new family out of those in need. Do you really wanna be in the position where you’re taking Braeden’s family from her? Or Twyla’s?”

Derek bristles. He’d never really thought of it that way, but there’s something still bugging him.

“But Braeden doesn’t want-”

“It’s clear she does, Derek.” Boyd interrupts, “Look, I know you’re still mad at her-”

“I’m not mad at her, Boyd! I’m just frustrated that she thinks she gets to be a mom and then play the disappearing act. I swear if she were a guy she’d be a fuck boy supreme!” 

Boyd snorts, spitting whisky across the table and laughing. Derek can’t help but join him.

“I swear we are burning that _Beauty Salon_ dvd.” Boyd says as he wipes down the counter. 

“I don’t know, I’ll sleep on it and try to figure something that will work for both of us.” Derek surmises once they’ve calmed down. Boyd stands beside him and puts in arm around his neck, squeezing his shoulder. 

“You always do, alpha. You always do.” They stand in companionable silence sipping their drinks until Boyd pipes back up. “So… alpha… what _is_ the deal with you and Stiles?” 

Derek can’t fight his blush, but he clears his throat calmly and shrugs. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lil’ Vernie.” He says coyly before standing and walking slowly to the den. He looks back at Boyd who is staring at him wide-eyed shaking his head. Derek chuckles and heads towards the stairs. Boyd grins. 

“Touche, alpha. Touche.”

***

The next day, Twyla seems to have forgotten all about whatever awkwardness existed previously as she flits about the house shaking her hair with exaggerated movement every time someone says her name. Erica tells her they should make a video so she, Isaac and Cora all get their phones and set up the living room so they can death-drop and lipsynch to _Whip My Hair_. Somewhere Isaac has found a wig and laughter and music flow through the house. Derek can’t help but smile. He goes to the study and pulls out his phone, dialing the number for the shop. 

“ _Ms. Berneice’s Crowning Glory_ , this is Ms. Berneice, how can I help you, baby?!” Derek grins, he assumes Berneice is kind of the community matriarch and it fills him with a warmth he’s been missing for a while. 

“Hello Ms. Berneice, this is Derek Hale, how are you today?” Derek asks, remembering his manners from the many admonishments Mrs. Boyd had delivered to the back of his head over the years. 

“Well, I’m fine, baby, thank you for asking! We already have your appointment set for next week, did you need something else?”

“I was wondering if… uhh.. _Stiles_ , _ahem_ , was in today?” Derek says, immediately regretting even existing at that moment. He was being so awkward and obvious. Ms. Berneice chuckles.

“Well, uhh, _ahem_ , let me see if _Stiles_ is around!” She says cutely, making Derek blush all the more, “Stiles, baby, are you in today?” 

“What?” Derek can hear Stiles say somewhat absently. He imagines he’s sorting beads or mixing conditioner, or whatever else you do at a salon. Derek is about to think back to _Beauty Salon_ for more ideas, but is interrupted by Ms. Berneice yelling at Stiles over the phone. 

“Boy, don’t you _what_ me! Are you in or not?” She gets a little muffled like she’s covering the receiver, but Derek can still hear everything clearly. 

“Sorry, ma'am! Who is it? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird, I’m just asking if you wanna talk to the person on the phone.”

“I’m not expecting a call! Take a message, please!” 

Derek’s heart seizes up. He’s about to speak when Berneice beats him to it, loudly proclaiming into the phone. 

“Oh I’m sooooo sorry, _Mr. Hale_ , but it appears that St-” Derek hears a scuffle and a laugh and suddenly the far away voice is up close and personal. 

“Derek? Uhh, I mean, Mr. Hale? Hey, it’s Stiles! Are you there?”

Derek can barely talk through his smile so he nods stupidly. 

“Fuck, did he hang up?”

“Boy, watch your mouth, or take it to the back! Ms. Twyla told me about her quarter system; you’re about to broke if I ever get that mason jar rinsed out.”

“I’m here!” Derek says, finally understanding the core concept of how telephones operate. 

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Hale, gimme a second to go to the back.”

“Please call me, Der-” Derek stops as he hears the phone muffle and teasing whoops and cheers go off in the background followed by, “ _all of you just shut up_!” He hears a click of a door and finally, the voice comes back on the line, causing Derek’s heart to pitter patter. 

“Sorry about that, Derek. I’m actually glad you called, I _uhh_ , you’re an alpha, right?” 

“Uhh, yeah, Beacon Hills and the plains, basically everything starting at the Beacon County line and heading south.”

“I’ve always wanted to go down south.” Stiles mumbles absently.

“What?” Derek asks, hearing something drop in the background causing the young man to curse. 

“Nothing, look, the reason I ask is because I used to run with a pack just outside of Sacramento, well… Folsom, really, but anyway, uhh, my friend Jackson and his wife Lydia- umm, he’s a werewolf and she’s a banshee- are going to be moving down here and I was thinking it’d be cool for them to meet you and do like, some sort of watchcare thing?” The boy rambles, but Derek doesn’t mind. He could listen to him all day. 

“Yeah, that sounds okay, when are they coming in?”

“Oh! Uhh, sometimes… in the next year- listen,” Stiles says as Derek snorts. He’s forgetting entirely why he’s called, but he’s still going to put this experience in the “ _good decisions_ ” column. “How’d the night go with Twy’s hair? Did the scarf stay on? Little kids can be fidgety as shit when they sleep.”

“It was fine, Stiles and she’s still very much in love with the style. She’s in the living room making a music video with her pack.”

“Oh my god, that sounds fucking adorable! Please say you’ll send it to me!”

“I will, but you just reminded me of something else I wanted to bring up.”

“Oh yeah? Hit me, big guy!” 

Derek clears his throat (and adjusts his pants) before continuing. 

“It’s come to my attention that you owe Twyla more than a few quarters.”

“Oh shit!” Stiles exclaims, nearly causing Derek to break his facade. 

“Stiles, she is a young, impressionable girl-”

“Oh wait, you’re serious? I swear, I try not to curse around the clients, especially the kids!”

“Her innocence means the world to me-”

“Oh my god! Of course, I’m so sorry, Der-”

“-and her sweet, beautiful ears-”

“The sweetest and most beautiful, Derek, please, you gotta believe me, I didn’t even know you were wolves!” 

“-are not to be receptacles for your filthy fucking mouth!”

“I know, I’m such a- wait, what?!”

Derek laughs and he hears Stiles physically deflate on the other end. 

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Technically my mother was she-wolf, bitch is mostly used for dogs.”

“Son of a bitch and a fucking smart ass.”

“ _You- fuck- my- -smart ass-_ ”

“Wait, _what_?!”

“Daddy!”

“It doesn’t count if you’re eavesdropping, shut the door!” 

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“Sorry about that, call waiting.” Derek says, finally shoo-ing Twyla away and closing the door, soundproofing the room. 

“So, what were you saying about your smart ass-”

“Maybe you can come over sometime and we can talk about your friends-”

Both men start talking at the same time and both stop at the same time waiting expectantly for the other to continue. They both laugh after the pregnant pause. 

“Umm, maybe you can come over and we can talk about your friends who are coming... in 9 months?”

“ _Such an asshole_.” Stiles mumbles under his breath. He clears his throat, “Yeah, that sounds really good. How about next week after Twyla’s appointment?” he suggests. Derek nods. 

“Sounds good. I’ll make dinner.” He grins, hoping Stiles will like his famous pineapple chicken.

“And then maybe we can discuss the other thing we almost talked about, or you can yell at me more for my sloppy mouth.”

“I’m sure your mouth is anything but sloppy, Stiles.” Derek says, his cheeks roasting as he chides himself for his forwardness. Stiles chuckles instead of hanging up, so Derek takes that as a win, “Twyla mentioned you said a bad word, and said something about the floor? Maybe we can discuss that in greater detail?”

“Oh my god, she heard that? I think I’ll just take the quarter loss and we can never talk about that again.”

“Oh the quarter is already a given, you’re gonna wanna stop by the bank before next week, but I’m not averse to hearing your ideas about our floors next week when you’re over. The ones in my bathroom are heated.”

“Damn, Derek.” is all Stiles can seem to say. Derek understands completely as they just sit in silence for a few moments, buzzing in the energy between them. 

“Shit, I’m getting called up. I’ll see you soon, Derek?”

“Yeah, definitely.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twyla goes back to the salon and Derek and Stiles have a ~talk.

The week seems to fly by much to Derek and Twyla’s pleasure. The style holds well and the night before Derek and Twyla bond while Derek takes down the braids using something called a “rat-tailed” comb.

“Pretty inelegant, huh, Orange Blossom?” Derek says as he gentle undoes a braid using the comb.

“What else would you call it?” Twyla asks, her head resting on Derek’s thigh as she hugs his leg.

“Handy, I guess.” He quips, causing Twyla to groan at his ‘dad’ humor.

“We learned about fancy rats in school. Rich kids used to keep them as pets and put bows on them.” Twyla stops, suddenly wistful, “I don’t know, you can put a bow on its tail, but it’s still a rat.”

“Those words are truer than you know, Orange Blossom.” Derek says as he finishes undoing the last braid. He searches through the poof of hair and finds his daughter’s beaming face.

“Good thing we didn’t throw out those brae’sball caps, huh, daddy? I think I’ll need one for when we go to the shop in the morning.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Derek says tepidly. He’s never quite sure how he feels about the caps and other gifts Braeden sends along, but they seem to make Twyla happy so he allows it. He just hopes she’s not pining over Braeden’s absence in any way.

“Daddy, can we get a dog!?” Twyla asks excitedly and seemingly out of nowhere.

“No, we have an Uncle Isaac, he’s enough work.”

“Hey!” Isaac says from where he’s laying on the couch with a pillow over his head. Derek shakes his head at the boy while Twyla jumps on his belly causing him to let out a little _oomph_.

“Go take him for a walk, Orange Blossom, and if he’s good, give him a little scritch behind the ears.”

Derek gets up and heads to the kitchen to get dinner ready while Isaac and Twyla get ready to go outside. Twyla is on Isaac’s back ordering him to mush and hugging him tightly around his neck.

“I would be offended, but I just so happen to love scritches.” When Isaac turns his daughter the other way, Derek flips Isaac off. Isaac returns the favor.

The morning of Twyla’s appointment, Derek parks and he and Twyla stroll up the sidewalk towards the salon. Without the trepidation of expectation, Derek really starts to notice the neighborhood. There’s a sweet little library on the corner and a soul food cafe across the street from the salon. There’s even a record store and a place that sells locally created art goods. Derek smiles as he opens the door for Twyla. The music from inside hits him like a smooth wave. It’s Marvin Gaye today.

“You know, I almost married this man!” Berneice says while simultaneously hugging Twyla and waving to Derek.

“Ms. Bernie, did Marvin Gaye break your heart?” Stiles asks cheekily from his station. Twyla waves at Jeanquisha who is shampoo-ing a head and Marie who is sitting in her chair eating wings. She hugs Stiles’ leg and then sits in his chair. Derek gives him a small wave hello which Stiles returns.

“Of course not, sugah! Ms. Berneice deals out the broken hearts, not the other way around.”

“Damn, that’s cold, Bernie!” Stiles says, tossing a quarter at Twyla with a wink. She catches it flawlessly and shakes her head, slipping it into her puppy dog purse.

“It was the seventies, I wasn’t gonna be tied down by no man. I used to tell them not to fall in love with me, but they did every time.”

“Hi, Stiles.” Derek says taking a seat on the other side of Marie across from Stiles’ station.

“Hi, Derek!” Stiles says back with a big smile.

Derek points at Stiles’ back pocket where he fished the quarter from, “I hope you’re prepped.” He says with a grin. Stiles… blanches.

“ _What_?”

“Phrasing!” Marie says, nearly choking on a wing, glomping at Derek who looks confused.

“What?” He says innocently, “With quarters!”

Stiles looks to Marie for guidance, “ _What_?!”

“Oh yeah! Mr. Stiles, you owe me $1.25! I heard some of your conversation with daddy last week.” Twyla sticks her hand out, but Derek wags a finger at her. Stiles… is still confused.

“What?!”

“Orange Blossom, I told you it didn’t count when you eavesdropped, give the man the right total!”

“Prepped?” Stiles mouth whispers to Marie who is still laughing.

“Stiles go and get this girl her quarters! Your pants seem to be a little light back there.” Berneice says, pointing in the same area that Derek was. Stiles is bright red and finally throws his hands up and goes into the backroom. Derek looks after him, confused, wondering if he should follow and try to explain himself some more, but Ms. Berneice claps a hand on his shoulder.

“You know that song was about me!” She exclaims, to Marie’s laughter.

“Which song, Ms. Berneice!?” She asks mischievously.

“You know the one, _Let’s Get-_ ” She stops herself and looks carefully at Twyla who is watching her expectantly, “ _Along!_ ”

Marie laughs again, shaking her head, “That classic Marvin Gaye song, _Let’s Get Along_ , was all about you, Ms. Bernie?”

“Yes it was!” Berneice says, clearly offended. Marie just shrugs.

“Sounds about right!”

“Are you even on the schedule today? Do you have a client?” Berneice says, leafing through the appointment book, pretending to check. Marie rolls her eyes.

“Nah, I just wanted to come and see Stiles work some more of his magic on Lil Miss, after he gets done fixing his pants.” She yells the last part just as the back door flies open.

“My pants are fine, Marie!” Stiles says, finally emerging from the back wearing an apron and depositing a handful of quarters into Twyla’s palms. She looks at the stack amazing and then looks at Stiles incredulously.

“I’mma pray for you, Mr. Stiles.”

“ _Haa_! Yes Lord! Where’d you learn that, baby girl?” Berneice asks, slapping her knee with laughter.

Twyla smirks, “Mrs. Boyd says it to Uncle Boyd all the time.” She giggles as Stiles drops his jaw in faux shock.

“And is daddy just gonna sit there while I get told off?”

“ _Phrasing_ , Jesus!” Marie says, reaching for a sip of her drink, “Y’all are gonna kill me with all this UST!”

“UST? What’s that?” Berneice asks Derek who shrugs.

“It sounds like the internet and I only go on the internet for Pinterest and to take videos of me voguing _off_ the internet.”

“I’m sorry, take down what’s of you _what-ing_?!” Stiles asks, perking up.

“Uncle Isaac has a YouTube page and he posted videos of us whipping our hair!” Twyla proclaims happily.

“And am I to infer that daddy whipped his hair back and forth too?” Stiles asks with a side-eye to Derek. Derek kind of wishes he had his own apron now.

“He just keep saying it, like we ain’t even here.” Marie says to Berneice who shakes her head while trying to type something into her phone.

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, “You’ll never find it, I got them all-”

“Found it!” Berneice shouts, slapping Derek’s arm. She holds the phone out to Jeanquisha, “Now show me how to do the cast thing so I can put it on the TV!”

“Wait!” Derek pleads.

“Do it now, Jeanny!” Stiles yells gleefully jumping up and down. Twyla and Marie are in hysterics.

“It’s okay, daddy, you look good!” Twyla tries to soothe her father. Derek shrugs.

“I know I look good, I can dance, I just don’t want it all over the-”

“Ahh shit, son, there he go!” Stiles says, pitching another quarter at Twyla.

On the screen are Isaac in a long black wig, Twyla in the middle and Derek on the other side complete with glitter gel in his hair. They are all dancing for their lives.

“Are you holding an imaginary pepper grinder?” Stiles asks incredulously.

“What? I look good!” Derek insists, watching the video and bopping his head along. He looks back down and sees Stiles watching him like the sweet summer child he is. Derek _pshht_ ’s, “Psshht! Like you can do any better!”

“Umm, for your information, I was voted Ms. Deathdrop down at the Cinnamon Lounge two years in a row, thank you very much.”

“You was voted because of your commitment to staying on the floor and pretending like it was a choice.” Ms. Berneice adds.

“What? I could do it right now!”

“No!” Everyone shouts, including some of the patrons who weren’t in the original conversation. Stiles looks around flummoxed and then looks at Derek.

“Are we bad dancers? Have we always been and thought we were good?”

“I don’t know who this _we_ is, I can dance, isn’t that right, Orange Blossom?”

“That’s right, daddy!” Twyla says matter-of-factly. She gets up and Derek joins her and they start bopping to the music.

“Oh, it’s on!” Marie shouts before jumping up and joining the circle. Stiles plops into the chair next to Berneice.

“Derek no, you’re terrible! It’s so bad! Oh my god, are you doing the running man?”

“So, is the rose off the bud?” Berneice asks Stiles slyly. Stiles smirks.

“I don’t know what the opposite of that expression is, but just know that all this is working for me, big time. I’mma marry that man.”

“You gonna ruin that man.”

“That’s what I said.” Stiles says with a wink before getting up and joining the circle.

“Stiles is doing the sprinkler, I have to go home!”

***___***

“Hey, thanks for the ride tonight.” Stiles says from the passenger seat of Derek’s car. They’re heading to the Boyd’s where Twyla will spend the night and then head to the pack house, which Derek made sure would be empty. “My baby, Roscoe, is in the shop and she’s gonna be there for a minute waiting for parts.”

“Your car is a girl named Roscoe?” Twyla asks from the back. She’s preoccupied looking at her hair which is braided into two little buns atop her head.

“That’s right, Sweetie, she’s a girl named Roscoe, kind of sounds like a country song, huh?”

“Mrs. Boyd listens to a lot of Hank Williams!”

“ _I lost my toe… to a girl named Roscoe!_ ” Twyla giggles and Derek rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling at Stiles’ warbly little ode.

Stiles reaches over and squeezes Derek’s forearm before sneaking a wink at the wolf. Derek looks in the rearview and sees Twyla quickly changing her gaze back to her mirror.

They drop her off and then head back to the Hale house. After a lovely meal of Hawaiian chicken and grilled pineapple for dessert (“ _I’m sensing a theme,”_ Stiles muses…) Derek and Stiles retire to the den with a bottle of wine.

“So… where did you learn those slick dance moves?” Stiles asks, taking a sip of his malbec. Derek can’t help but notice the way the red wine is staining his plush pout.

“I studied at Juilliard for 4 years before completing a tour with the _Joffrey_ ballet.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, “What?! _Really_?!”

Derek laughs, “No! Of course not, we have a club here called _The Jungle_ and on Thursday nights they wouldn’t pay attention to your ID and there was nothing else for pan kids to do on a Thursday night in Beacon Fucking Hills.”

“I think it’s because you’re so handsome.” Stiles says absently, gently moving a whisp of hair out of Derek’s eyes.

“That I got into the club?”

“No, that you’re such an undercover smart ass!” Derek nearly spits up his wine as Stiles takes the bottle and chugs directly from it. “People see this facade and think, oh he’s never had to craft a personality, he’s got those eyes! But there you are, just defying gravity and expectations and being smart and droll and an asshole!”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, poking Stiles in his side and smirking at how adorable the young man looks as he crumples up.

“Yeah! Adorable son of a-”

“Then what’s your excuse?” Derek asks, wagging an eyebrow at Stiles… whose cheeks are full of wine. He swallows inelegantly and then reaches over and pushes the demanding eyebrow back down.

“The hell are you even talking about, _what about me?_ What about _what about me?_ ”

Derek grabs the bottle and sets it on the end table along with their glasses before looking back at Stiles.

“You’re gorgeous, and smart and funny and gifted, and your eyes are amazing.”

“Dammit, Hale. This isn’t supposed to be this easy. What’s the catch? Are you haunted?”

“I’m a single dad slash alpha werewolf who alternates between ripping out the throats of villains with my teeth and sobbing hysterically at my daughter’s hip hop tap recitals.”

Stiles chuckles to himself clearly imagining the scene, “Dammit, both of those images work for me!”

“I have a lot of baggage, but… I like you. I like you a lot.”

“Yeah… I like you too, Derek.”

Derek grins, “I’d like to… date you? I guess, that sounds so juvenile, but before anything, I need you to know-”

“Twyla comes first, I know, Derek.”

“What? I mean, that’s ok? Because it’s not an understatement.”

“That’s your baby girl and your number one priority. I adore Twyla and her happiness means everything to me. Seeing the smile on her face is like being able to look into the sun without it hurting your eyes, and seeing your smile because of hers? It’s priceless, Derek. I get it.”

Derek is grinning so hard he can feel his cheeks burning as Stiles holds his hand. They sit in companionable silence until Derek gets a glance at the clock.

“Oh, well it’s getting late.” Derek says. He wants Stiles to stay, wants to cook him breakfast in the morning, but… is he moving too fast?

“Uhh, yeah.” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes at the wolf. He doesn’t make any move to get up or let go of Derek’s hand. “I guess I should get going. I can just call an Uber or something.”

“Oh! Umm, don’t you think it’s a little too late? At this time the Uber guys can be creepy and uhh, by the time you get home, it’ll just be… too late.” Derek tries to stop his mouth; he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Did he want Stiles to stay or to go? Well, of course he wanted him to stay, but was it the right thing?

“It’s supposed to rain, I hear.” Stiles says with a cocky grin. Derek looks outside where it’s completely dry and the sky is full of stars. He looks back at Stiles who stares at him with a wide eyed innocence only obtained with years of practice. Derek rolls his eyes.

“You should stay.”

“Oh! Really?” Stiles says clapping his hands together. He stretches out his legs and looks at the couch they’re sitting on. “Great, I’ll take the couch!”

“My bed is more comfortable.” Rushes out of Derek’s mouth before he can stop it. Truth be told he can’t really be assed to care.

“Mr. Hale! I am _not_ that kind of Stiles!” the little imp exclaims before placing a hand incredulously on his heart. Derek blanches.

Shit, had he misread their conversation? The whole entire night? Despite the fact that sentence was melodramatic and ridiculous, did Stiles really not want to move this fast and this was his way of covering it?

“No! I, uhh, I meant _I_ would take the couch,” Derek lied, knowing good and well that’s not what he wanted at all. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to be two steps ahead of him.

“Derek, I’m just fucking with you, I’m totally that kind of Stiles! We can share your bed, what kind of house guest would I be if I made you sleep on your couch?”

“The kind that only gets invited over once.”

Stiles laughs and hops up, reaching his hand out to Derek. Derek takes it, but suddenly stills.

“”Shit… are we, am I moving too fast? We’ve only known each other for a while and-”

“Derek earlier you asked me if I was prepped!”

“With quarters! I clearly meant with-”

Derek is cut off by Stiles’ pout pressing into his own and the warmth of his body blanketing him on the couch. Derek wraps his arms around the boy and turns his head slightly, allowing Stiles tongue to lap inside his mouth. He tastes like chicken off the grill and pineapple and Derek wants to feast. After a few moments they break apart. Stiles tries to stand, but he can’t… Derek won’t let him go.

“C’mon, pineapple wolf, get up.” Stiles stands and pulls Derek up with him.

“My mom died when I was 8 years old.” Stiles says, resting his hands on Derek’s chest. Derek grabs one and kisses it while stroking the boy’s face comfortingly. “My dad was a single dad and I watched him date until he found someone he loved. And the thing that set her apart is she didn’t play games. She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to waste time worrying about it. She liked me and she liked my dad, and she understood what it meant for her that he was a single father before he was her lover. She believed the rest would fall into place and it did.

“I know what I want, Derek. I like you and I like Twyla, and I understand that you’re a single father before you’re my lover. And I believe the rest will fall into place.”

Derek smiles, but he’s still hesitant, he can tell by Stiles’ beating heart that he believes what he says is the truth, but is that enough? Stiles leans in close to him, their bodies flush, and wraps his arms around his shoulders. He kisses his chin gently, and then his cheek before whispering into his ear.

“I grew up with a pack of wolves, you know what the number one thing they teach us when dealing with wolves is?” Stiles asks as he tilts his head allowing Derek access to his neck.

“What? What does that have to do with-?” Derek asks woozily as he scents Stiles heavily drinking in the boy’s aroma.

“What’s the number one thing they tell humans, Derek?”

“Don’t run.”

“That’s right.” Stiles backs up suddenly pushing Derek to the couch. He peels off his shirt and throws it in the face of the wolf.

“Catch me if you can!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second hairstyle:   
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter before the meat of the story. I'll try to update before the weekend, thanks for the amazing comments and for being so patient!

“Daddy, are you and Stiles dating?” Derek looks at his precocious little girl and can’t help the grin and far-a-way look he gets on his face. Derek and Stiles _have_ been dating, for just a little over three months, and it was fantastic. 

Derek has never been happier with a lover, and Stiles wasn’t kidding when he said he understood his role in the life of a single dad with a little girl. He’s been talking about moving to Beacon Hills and even found a small apartment next to Twyla’s school, going so far as to suggest he could care for her after school when Derek was busy. Derek was floored by what started as a simple conversation until he started crying. Then Stiles kissed away his tears and blew him until he came so hard he could see stars.

“What do you know about dating, Orange Blossom?” Derek asks, opening the jar of jelly and pushing it towards Twyla who was “cooking lunch” for the two. It was a rare day where there were no violent threats causing Derek to have to ship Twyla off to the Boyd’s, no after school activities and no PTA meetings. Even Stiles had a couple of heads that night. It was just them. 

It was strange to Derek, that although he cherished every minute he and Twyla got to spend together, Stiles’ absence was becoming more and more noticeable. He _missed_ him. Even after such a short time. He could tell Twyla did too; dropping the formality of _Mr._ caused her to understand that Stiles was now someone very close and someone she should hold very dear, and she did. It was important to Derek that Twyla and Stiles bonded before Derek got too attached, which was a good idea in theory, however in practice it all fell apart. Derek was head over heels for the young man the first time he saw those eyes.

“I know it’s when two people like each other very much, even more than other people, and then sometimes they kiss.” Twyla says, appearing nonchalant as she smears the peanut butter on the bread. Derek narrows his eyes. 

He’s trying not to, obviously, but he’s thinking about the first night Stiles stayed over, the way his body looked layed out, naked and unashamed on Derek’s duvet. He thought about how the light of the moon danced on his skin, letting it gleam as Derek’s mouth glided over it. He’d been sweating after a chase that led them to Derek’s bedroom. Stiles knew which one it was on sight, he says it called out to him, like a beacon. 

_“I knew if I followed the signs I’d be led home.”_

_“So it had nothing to do with the fact that I showed you exactly where it was during the tour?”_

_“Nope! It was fate, Derek.”_

“Who taught you about kissing?” He asks absently. He thinks about when he kissed Stiles’ nipple, it was sort of an apology as he’d nibbled on and bit it causing the human to playfully slap his cheek and tug at his beard. Then he kissed Stiles’ collarbone. Then he kissed his ass...

“Aunt Cora says I can’t know what kissing is until I can spell it, but I told Uncle Isaac I _could_ spell it and he told me it’s when two people say _I love you_ but actually _with_ their lips and not just from them.” 

Derek wonders if the first time he kissed Stiles’ asshole was an ode of Derek’s love, or a promise to Stiles’ pucker? Maybe it was both. He remembers the feral savor of the man, how much he wanted it again, how much he missed it. Hell, he thinks about how much he wants to fuck it, how much Stiles just _lets_ him. He holds back a snarl and clears his throat. 

“Well no kissing for you. If you wanna tell someone you love them, do it in a letter.” Derek insists while cutting the crusts off the bread.

Twyla smiles, “I saw you and Stiles kissing in the kitchen.” 

Derek blanches. He wonders which night, hoping it wasn’t the night that Stiles gave Derek head in the kitchen and then Derek fucked him against the wall. He’s sure it wasn’t, he remembers that night in particular being very… _loud_ , and Stiles cursing when Derek thought he was going to slam him against a wall and it ended up being the swinging door causing both to fall in a heap of laughter on the floor. 

“Well… yeah, we’re umm… we’re dating.” Derek says, finally just throwing in the towel. He slides a plate over to his little lady and watches her carefully, “How do you feel about that?” 

“I love Stiles! Is he gonna be my mom?” She asks expectantly. 

“Uhh..” Derek thinks back to the night when Stiles wore a leather corset that exposed his nipples, thigh highs and heels for him, and that Sunday that he made Derek wear pink panties, but he doesn’t really think that’s the same thing. “We haven’t really talked about that yet, we’re still just getting to know each other.”

“I know a lot about him! I know he calls me _sweet pea_ because my birthday is in April and that’s my birth flower, and it’s his too!”

“That’s great, Orange Blossom, wait, do you know why I call you Orange Blossom and not sweet pea?”

“Yup, it’s because it’s the first doll you saw that looked like me in this hillbilly town.”

Derek laughs, knowing Twyla is reciting the story from when Isaac retells it every year. This year when he told it, Stiles was there and Twyla was sitting on his lap nearly mimicking the entire thing word for word while Stiles laughed. Derek couldn’t take his eyes off the two. 

“It is getting serious, Orange Blossom, and I want to make sure that’s okay with you before we go any further. He cares about you very much and he’s going to be more involved in our lives, he might even become a part of our family.” Derek was surprised by how much these words didn’t scare him. Since their incredibly forward first sleepover, Stiles did everything with the goal of their relationship in mind. He knew he wanted Derek, and a relationship with him and his daughter, and wanted to work towards building a family, he’d said as much to Derek, and the alpha agreed. 

It was fast, but Derek didn’t mind. Stiles’ dad was getting married the following month and Derek has already met him and his fiance, Melissa. He knows they still have a ways to go, but he’s happy they’re going together. 

“It’s okay with me. You told me that love is very important and Stiles loves me; he told me he did and I love him too. Do you love, Stiles, daddy?” Twyla asks. Derek smiles and thinks about Stiles and him cuddling on the outside lounger in front of the fire, gazing at the stars and trading stories. They tell each other their truths in between sips of tea and sweet kisses. He thinks about how much he loves that. How much he just _loves_ , which is another thing outside of Twyla he never thought possible. 

“He means a lot to me, Orange Blossom, and he makes me very happy.”

“Well, he makes you very happy and that means a lot to me.” She says before taking a wolfish bite of her sandwich. Derek laughs as she gets felled by the peanut butter and her face contorts trying to wrangle the mush in her mouth. He shakes his head and pushes a glass of milk towards her.

The next few months go by in a daze. Their family is happy and healthy and Stiles fits in like a glove. His friends move from Folsom and Jackson and Lydia take a vested interest romantically in Isaac which surprises everyone involved. Stiles calls Cora the little sister he never had and worships the ground that Boyd walks on (although the feeling isn’t so mutual since Stiles let ‘ _Lil’ Vernie_ ’ slip during a pack dinner. Boyd forgave him after seeing Derek laugh so hard). He and Erica become partners in crime, sometimes to Derek’s chagrin, but mostly because he has to keep pretending he doesn’t love it. 

But he does, he loves Stiles immeasurably. And Stiles loves him. He tells him, not just in words, but in actions and deeds. Stiles, who changes his schedule at the shop so he could make sure to pick up Twyla from school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Who shows Derek a couple of styles he can do on his own so he and Twyla don’t have to give up hair day entirely. 

Stiles who loves him. Who rides him in the middle of the steamy night, quietly whimpering although the room is soundproof, both of his hands grasping Derek’s and taking his pleasure from the wolf. He keens as Derek switches their positions so that now he’s on top, plundering the young man and feasting in his treasure, making him explode all over his chest right before Derek expends inside of him, rubbing Stiles’ seed into his belly while he comes down. 

And then there are the nights when Derek’s vulnerabilities are on display and Stiles indulges in them all. He enters Derek, slowly and carefully before grasping the alpha’s hips and pistoning into him like a runaway trolley. He grabs at Derek’s hair, pulling it on just the right side of painful and he lets his filthy mouth coat Derek in ministrations so obscene they make the wolf blush, despite being soundly fucked in the ass. 

Either way he loves it. His life is flourishing and Stiles is a part of it. His family is growing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing can bring him down. 

___***___

“Brae-call day!” Twyla runs through the house collecting things to take into the den for her monthly _Brae-call_. This includes pictures she’s drawn, good grades she’s gotten and any manner of thing she found interesting in the 30 days since she’d last spoken to Braeden. Derek set her up in the den, turned on the facetime on the large screen and then left to give Twyla and Brae some privacy before joining Stiles back in the kitchen. They were discussing his moving plans. He’d be moving in the following week. 

“Hi Brae!” Twyla nearly screams excitedly waving as Braeden shows up on the screen. She’s waving back, but she’s nearly solemn, definitely a lot less energetic than usual. Twyla forges ahead, “I have so much to tell you!”

“I have something to tell you, sweetheart.” Braeden says, quietly, so quiet Twyla almost wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t already been hanging onto every word.

“I’m your mom.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, a lot of yelling.

“Did you hear me, honey? I said-”

“You’re my mom?” Twyla asks, presenting the statement as a question. Braeden grimaces slightly, she knows she’s messing up, but she has to do this.

“Yes, sweetie. How… what do you think about that?”

Twyla shrugs, looking towards the door, knowing her daddy and Stiles are in the kitchen getting dinner ready.

“I thought Stiles is going to be my mom.”

“What? What’s a Stiles? Is that your dad’s boyfriend?”

“Where are you?” Twyla asks, a bit unfocused. Braeden looks around her dingy motel room. It’s actually okay for a roadside place, but it’s nothing special.

“I’m in Tucson, honey. Do you know where that is?”

“It’s in Arizona!”

“That’s right, it’s the capital!”

“The capital of Arizona is Phoenix!” Twyla says with a small grin. It gets bigger when Braeden winks at her.

“That’s my girl, I knew you were smart.”

“Why are you in Tucson?”

“For work, honey.”

“Roman Taroungeaben’s mom travels a lot for work.”

“Is that a friend from school? That’s… quite a name!” Braeden tries to keep the mood light as Twyla nods, but she can see the little girl fading, her little mind filling with questions.

“Roman says his mom hates that she has to travel for work and when she comes home she always brings him a snow globe.”

“Do… do you want me to send you a snow globe?”

“Are you coming home?” Twyla asks, almost in a whisper, with a determination on her face. Braeden can’t tell if it’s trying to understand, trying to keep from crying, or trying to keep from being angry. She sighs.

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really?” Twyla asks, a hint of skepticism in her tone. Braeden nods.

“Yes, honey, I’ll find a way.”

“And… you’re my mom?” Twyla asks. Braeden supposes it must be hard to hear, she doesn’t imagine Derek mentions her much at all. She gets why, but she can’t say it doesn’t bother her.

“Yes, of course I am, baby. You… you can call me ‘ _mom_ ’ if you want?”

“Oh! Uhh.. maybe.”

“Or you know, you can just calling me… _Brae_.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I love you, Twyla. I don’t think I say that enough.”

“I love you too, Brae.”

Twyla disconnects the call and walks into the kitchen where her daddy and Stiles are laughing together at the table. She sees the way his face lights up when he looks at Stiles. It used to only do that when he looked at her, but she found she didn’t mind so much. Her Stiles’ face lit up the same way when he looked at her too. She walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweet pea! How was your Braecall?” Stiles says, holding out his arms automatically for the young girl to perch in his lap. She does so instantly as if it’s always been her seat and always would be. “Okay, I get _brae’sball_ , it’s a little clumsy, but inspired and cute, but what does _braecall_ even mean? Are there goats involved? Sweet pea, did you know when goats talk it’s called a _‘bray’_?”

“That’s for donkeys, Stiles!” She says. She's quieter than usual, her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Stiles bounces her on his knee.

“What? Really? Have I been wrong all this time?” Stiles asks looking at Derek who shrugs. He’s watching Twyla carefully, “Thank goodness our little girl is a genius!” Stiles says with a kiss to Twyla’s cheek. She smiles softly and looks at Stiles, petting his cheek.

“Everything okay, Orange Blossom?” Derek asks, reaching forward and pinching Twyla lightly on the knee. She leans her head back on Stiles’ chest and looks at her daddy.

“Braeden is my mom.” She asks, or says, quietly, almost in a whisper, or a whimper. The color bleeds from Derek’s face as he struggles to form words through his shock. Stiles is the first to come back online and hugs Twyla to him.

“Umm, sweet pea, how about you and your daddy go to the den so you can talk and I’ll make us some milkshakes?” He suggests, knowing this should be something between her and Derek, but Twyla shakes her head and wraps her arms around Stiles’ neck.

“That’s okay. I don’t want any milkshake, I’m not hungry.” She burrows into his neck, scenting him, seeking comfort as she’s started to do sometimes. He rubs soothing stripes up and down her back and looks at Derek who is rubbing his temples.

He looks so lost.

“Uhh.. well, yes, sweet pea, she’s your- well, she _had_ you-”

“Okay.” Twyla says simply, muffled into Stiles’ neck though both can hear her.

“Okay? Are… are you sure, baby?” Stiles asks. Derek reaches forward and places his hand on her back.

“Are you okay, Orange Blossom?”

She turns around in Stiles’ lap and begins fidgeting with her fingers.

“How come you didn’t tell me? I thought I didn’t have a mom.”

Derek gasps, overcome with emotion, “Because Braeden couldn’t be here,” he stammers, “I’m so sorry my love, my eternal love.”

“Because of her work?” Twyla looks at Derek with something new in her eyes. An indescribable discomfort that before her, he thought came standard with the Hales. She was the only one who didn’t have it… until now.

“Yes, because of her _job_. And I didn’t want you to be sad, thinking that you had a mom that you never got to see.”

“Okay.”

“Orange Blossom… Twyla, _please-_ ”

“I thought Stiles was gonna be my mom?” She asks, looking at Stiles though the question was aimed at Derek. Stiles had been staring into space, preoccupied with trying to simultaneous _be_ there white giving them at least the appearance of privacy. He sighs.

“Well, Papa maybe? Twy, honey I know this is a lot-”

“Honey, I’m _so_ sorry!” Derek says, a rogue tear gliding down his cheek. Twyla doesn’t see it as she’s tucked back into Stiles’ neck. Stiles reaches over and thumbs it from Derek’s cheek, cupping his face in his hand.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I get it. I think.”

Stiles can tell Derek is melting down, completely stunned by Twyla’s placid reaction, and Twyla’s little claws are beginning to dig into Stiles’ back where she’s reattached her arms around his neck.

“Okay, Twyla. We hear you, sweetheart.” He says, adjusting her slightly. He looks into her glistening, curious eyes, “If you do wanna talk about it, even if it’s not with us, you’ll let us know, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, baby. So much.”

“I love you too, Stiles.” She says, sitting up and standing from his lap. She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. She turns to Derek, her gaze downward as she hugs him around his side.

“I love you, Orange Blossom.”

“I know, daddy. It’s okay.”

Then she exits the kitchen and goes upstairs to her room where she puts on her headphones and plays her favorite CD.

Downstairs Stiles holds Derek as he cries.

***___***

“That fucking _bitch_!”

“Derek, wait.”

“Oh god, I fucked up!”

“Derek, please, just-”

“That fucking coward-”

“Derek, I know, but stop-”

Derek is up like a flash and runs to the den where he’s so mad he can barely place the call to Braeden. Stiles comes in the study behind him just as Braeden’s face shows on the screen masked in determination and sheer stubbornness. Stiles closes and locks the door quickly.

“Braeden, what the fuck?! How fucking _dare_ you?!” Derek yells, seething with rage. Stiles can see the red of his eyes in the reflection of the screen. This… was not going to be good.

“Turn off your stop lights, _alpha_ , you know that bullshit doesn’t work on me! She needed to know and since _you_ weren’t going to tell her-” Braeden hisses, pacing in her room in front of her laptop.

“You have no fucking right! _I’m_ the one who knows what she needs, _I’m_ the one who fucking provides. I’m the parent, Braeden, not you!”

“You’re so full of _shit_! There’s no reason not to tell her! It was more for you than for her and you know it! Do you fucking hate me that much that you would keep my own daughter away from me?! You want to get back at me _so_ badly that you’d make her think I wasn’t even real? Well, I’m tired of feeling guilty, _Derek_!”

“ _Fuuuuuck YOU_!” Derek screams at the screen, spit splattering across it as he seems ready to swipe at it with his claws.

“I want to know my daughter and I want her to know _ME_ as her _mom_!”

They both glare at each other until the sound of a cleared throat draws their attention. Braeden searches the screen, but Stiles is out of view. Derek looks at him as Stiles pleads with him silently to collect himself. Derek looks back at Braeden, resolute.

“You’re done.”

“What? The fuck you mean, _I’m_ -”

“You’re done. This is the last _braecall_ , _ever_. Don’t send anything, don’t call, don’t write-”

“Derek, what? Are you kidding? You’re kidding!”

“I’m not fucking kidding, you’re fucking done.”

“Derek, just hang up, please!” Stiles pleads finally from his seat. Braeden looks around frantically.

“Who is that? Is that guy there? Twyla’s _new_ mom?”

“Well, Papa, _Jesus_ , but look, sorry Braeden we’re going to-”

“Hey, you! He’s kidding, right? Derek, you piece of shit, don’t you _dare_!” _‘Dare’_ is where she cracks, her eyes watering and over-filling with tears that stain her eyeliner down her heated cheeks. “Derek!”

“You spend all this time looking for other people and you can’t even find yourself. Have you ever thought about maybe looking into your daughter’s eyes? Into her beautiful, gorgeous face and seeing yourself?”

“Derek, please don’t! I need her and you’re taking her from me!” Braeden sobs as righteous angry tears paint her face and neck.

“Taking her from you? She was never yours to begin with! Why are you even thinking about this now, but it didn’t fucking occur to you, oh I don’t know, the 48hrs after she was born that you were actually fucking _here_?!”

“ _Der-_ ”

“ _Fuck_ you!”

“She’s all I have left!” Braeden plops on the edge of the bed and plants her face in her hands, stomping on the ground.

“You never fucking had- you know what? I take that back, you had her, had everything, we had a family that was alive and supportive and _you_ didn’t want it, so fuck you, you’re done!”

“Okay, this is going nowhere, Braeden, we’re going to take some time to calm down.” Stiles says, stepping into view.

“You? You’re Stiles?”

“And what fucking of it, Braeden?! Is there something you wanna fucking-”

“Okay, big bad, that’ll do, Braeden, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize to her, she doesn’t deserve-”

“Derek, wait, just reconsider, come on, you ass!” She pleads.

“Oh fucking tactful as always, such a pain in the-”

Stiles disconnects the call and Derek grabs the mouse and slams it into the wall, smashing it into a heap of debris on the floor. He roars, a great mighty thing that seems to be dampened by the walls, but still shakes the man to his core. Falling on the floor in a heap, he takes large inhales and finally opens his eyes to his mate.

“My love.” Stiles says quietly, watching the pieces of his boyfriend from where he fell apart.

“St… _Stiles_.” Derek wheezes, he’s pulling at his hair until Stiles walks forward and gently drops his hands to his side. Derek reaches forward and grabs Stiles by his hips, holding him close and inhaling at his groin. It’s not sexual, but for comfort, one he so desperately needs right now. Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“Derek, you know I love you, and I’m 100% on your side.” Derek muffles something into Stiles’ hip causing the young man to pull his head back and peer into his bloodshot eyes, “That was _not_ okay.”

“Twyla’s perfect.” Derek says, his voice cracked and raw, a perfect mirror image of the condition of his heart.

“I know, baby. But so are you, Derek.”

Derek shakes his head, “What? This isn’t about me, this is about that _bitch_ -”

“Derek, _no_!”

“I thought you were on my side!?”

“Derek, I know you’re an alpha werewolf, but I will punch you in the throat.”

“What?!”

“Get up, let’s use the couch for what it’s made for.” Stiles hauls Derek up and pushes him towards the couch where he straddles the wolf and frames his face in his hands. He kisses him once sweetly.

“I’m always on your side, 100%, but I’m on Twyla’s 1000%. The way you talked to Braeden, I know you’re upset, I get it, and you might even be justified, but that’s not okay, you’re better than that.”

“She just makes me so crazy!” Derek complains, flailing his hands out, something he’s undoubtedly picked up from Stiles.

“Of course she does-”

“And she broke my little girl’s heart and-”

“That’s where you’re probably wrong.”

Derek stops and looks at Stiles quizzically. He’s always trusted Stiles before and he wants to trust him now, but he doesn’t know if he can. “Wrong? Wha-”

“Twyla is fine, my love. A little confused,” He scrunches his nose, “okay, a _lot_ confused, and we’ll deal with that! But she’s fine, Derek.”

“Because of me! Because I raised her! All Braeden has ever done is send her some hats and meaningless junk and she only calls once a fucking month.”

“Because that’s all you’ll allow, babe. I mean, what has Braeden _done_ that’s so terrible? Follow your rules?”

“Those rules are in place for a reason. I’m limiting their time so she doesn’t get hurt.”

“And if that were the whole truth, it would be fine, but motives matter, Derek. You’re limiting their time to protect Twyla, which, okay, but you’re _also_ doing it to get back at Braeden, and that’s _not_ okay.”

“I’m not mad.” Derek says petulantly, nearly pouting. Stiles pinches his cheek.

“You are mad.” Derek begins to shake his head, but Stiles grabs his chin, forcing the wolf to focus on him, “You are, my love, and it eats away at you, and it’s caused you to build a wall around your heart.” He lets go of Derek’s chin and drops his eyes.

“Sometimes I still feel like I’m trying to scale it.”

“Stiles, honey eyes, I-”

Stiles puts his hand briefly over Derek’s mouth, shaking his head, “Shh… no, it’s okay, don’t worry, I’ve got great tech. I can hang out, this isn’t about me.”

“It’s about Braeden being a-”

“It’s about her hurting you.”

“It’s about her hurting Twyla! Don’t you see how wrecked she is?!”

“Last I saw she was heading upstairs probably to listen to some music ad think about what’s going on. She’s very analytical, and really, she doesn’t know Braeden, she’s more enamoured by the idea of her. Don’t worry, she’ll find her peace. _You’re_ the one that’s wrecked, Der, and it’s because she hurt you.”

“I’ve never given Twyla anything less than 100% of my love, she’s my everything.”

“I know, and that’s beautiful, but also, a little overwhelming, especially when you don’t necessarily have to.”

“What? Of course I have to-”

“You’re not alone, Derek!”

“Wha-” Derek suddenly feels like his heart is going to explode, like the smallest thing will set him ablaze and Stiles is the match, but he doesn’t feel smothered by it, just expectant.

“Derek, you raised Twyla and you love her and all she would have to do is merely look like she wanted it enough and you would give her the moon. But you didn’t do it by yourself. Twyla keeps asking me if I’m her mom and it’s adorable, but it’s also not right. Because she’s got a mom, Derek. All I am is another person who will love her unconditionally and support her in the same way that I do with you… well, not exactly the same way, that would _not_ be legal, but you get what I mean.”

“Stiles, joking? Really?”

“I know, shut up and let me have it.”

Derek huffs, but draws Stiles in as he hugs Derek tightly. He kisses his cheek and sits back up, this time falling off to Derek’s side with his legs thrown over the wolf’s lap. He grabs Derek’s hands.

“Honey cub, despite the fact that you said you were okay with Braeden leaving Twyla, you’ve never really forgiven her for leaving you.”

“I… that’s not-”

“You had it all, the promise of a family, and suddenly she decided she couldn’t handle that. You’ve rebuilt and you’ve given family to a lot of people who otherwise wouldn’t have one, but you still can’t shake that you want Twyla to have the whole mom slash dad, 2.5 siblings thing. You wanna give Twyla everything you lost, and you blame Braeden for taking that away from you, when it’s not an expectation she should have been held responsible for in the first place.”

Derek stills, he can’t believe he’s been so narrow-sighted for so long. Stiles continues.

“You’re a martyr, babe, I get that. But you’ve hid behind being a struggling single dad for too long. You have to start recognizing the support you have around you, and you have to fix this thing with Brae.”

“Uggh, Stiles, I-”

“Do it, Derek. Hell, go to fucking Tucson, find her, beat each other up, fuck it out and bring me home some more of those beautiful, beautiful babies.”

“Jesus, Stiles!”

“Twyla would make a great big sis, and I’d like her to have a sibling that really looks like her, you know? I mean, ultimately it doesn’t matter, but still, it’d be nice.”

“I don’t have feelings for Braeden.”

“Of course you do, bear, that’s what makes you a good person.” Stiles says, brushing Derek’s hair out of his face, grinning at the pout still stubbornly gracing his lover’s face, even though he knows Stiles is right. “You’re holding your anger in to protect Twyla, but that also means you’re _holding_ your anger, and you’re not dealing with it.”

“I don’t want Braeden _back_ , I swear to you, Stiles, you’re it for me.”

“You’re damned right I’m it for you!” Stiles laughs and looks at Derek like he’s crazy. Derek furrows his brow at the little imp. “You know that you and Braeden would be a disaster. You’re both too ridiculously stubborn. You two were meant to know and love each other at a very specific time in a very specific way to accomplish a very specific goal. You just made the mistake of getting your heart broken, but here’s the thing, you can’t fully hate her, because you know that everything you loved in her, everything that you won’t admit that you miss in those few moments of not hating her? Those things are in your daughter.”

Derek opens his mouth, then he sighs deeply and closes it, lolling his head back.

“Who made you so smart?” He asks the air. He feels Stiles lay his head on his chest.

“My mom, definitely.” He says absently, probably referring to the insane number of messages Stiles’ father has been sending him about his and Melissa’s wedding.

Derek grins, putting an arm around his boy and kissing him on the forehead.

“Do I really have a wall?”

“Yeah, babe, but I found a secret way in.” Stiles says, tapping on Derek’s chest.

“Oh yeah, where?” Derek asks, inhaling the scent of his one.

“Through your ass.”

Derek nods, and then palms Stiles’ face and pushes him away. He stands up and turns to watch Stiles laughing on the couch.

“Despite that, I love you very much.” Derek says, leaning over and caging the boy in, kissing him on both cheeks.

“And I love you, Elvis wolf.”

“Elvis?”

“ _Heartbreak Hotel_? Should I have said Missy?”

“Too soon, Stiles.”

“Oh, c’mon! Or do you mean you’re secretly a Lil’ Mo fan?”

“That was _Super Woman_!”

“We gotta revisit her catalogue soon.” Stiles says, finally sitting up. “In the meantime, I’m going to find us another mouse and you go up and talk to Twyla. It doesn’t have to be long or very big, just answer some questions she may have come up with, even if it’s repetitive, she’ll need and want to hear it from you.”

Derek nods as Stiles walks to him, placing his arms around his shoulders.

“The rest can be hashed out during dinner with the rest of the pack, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s good, ok.”

“Then we’ll send Twyla off for the night to Erica and Boyd’s and you’ll rage fuck me in the shower.”

“What.” Derek deadpans as Stiles tries to push up the sides of his mouth into a smile.

“Derek, you’re still a pent up ball of furry fury, take some out on my ass! I promise you won’t regret it, and it’ll give us a chance to try out the new rubberized floors!”

“You’re a menace, you know that, right?”

“A complete blight on society, I know, but you’re going to need it because…”

“Because?”

“Because you’re gonna call Braeden back after, and you’re gonna fix this, alpha.”

Derek nods slowly, then he quickly shakes his head.

“You can do this, Derek!” Stiles insists.

“No, I don’t think I can.”

“You can! And I’m here for you, and your pack is here for your, and your little girl.”

“Shit, okay.”

“You ready, Braveheart?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That was... a lot. And don't think Braeden is off the hook, we've still got a long ways to go!  
>  Thanks for coming on this journey with me, I live for your comments so come and yell with me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of updates tonight! Then another update Sunday! Thanks for coming along!
> 
> Also, you'll notice I bumped it up to an M. These two are just too filthy!

Derek is holding the new mouse in his hand and he uses it to click the icon to connect to Braeden. He’s in pajama pants and a simple white shirt. He's freshly rage fucked Stiles in the shower and put him to bed upstairs, and he’s already called Twyla to say goodnight. 

He’s just got to do this, and then he can rest. 

Her face comes on the screen and she looks tired and beaten, but still defiant. He remembers a little bit now why he cared for her. 

“I’m coming home.” She says, the tremor in her voice belying the resolution in her brow.

“I still can’t believe you told her.”

“I can’t believe you’re this close to marrying that guy and I had to fish it out of Mrs. Boyd!”

“What?” Derek says, confused by the turn in topic.

“Sometimes I call her in between and she… she tells me stuff. Whatever, I’m coming home and I'm going to be Twyla’s mom.”

“But why? Why suddenly now? What’s changed?”

“I have to have a reason for wanting to see my baby girl?”

Derek massages his temples, trying to take to heart the things Stiles told him. He inhales and exhales once. 

“Braeden, if you feel like you need to come back then fine, but don’t do it because Twyla needs a mom.”

“Why the hell else would I come back, Derek?” Braeden asks, clearly getting frustrated. Derek shakes his head. 

“I’m going to ask Stiles to marry me soon and-”

“And he’s going to be her new mom?”

“No, Braeden-”

“Do you know she asked me that? What the hell does that even mean? And who the hell is he to try and replace me?”

“First off there’s no replacing you, because you were _never fucking here_!”

“Well, I’m coming home so I guess you won’t have that to use as an excuse anymore.”

“Braeden, I didn’t call you back to fight, what I meant is that Twyla doesn’t need a mom, she needs someone who loves her. Are you prepared to deal with that? Without our bullshit clouding that?”

“Derek, I’m not going to pretend like I’m not her mom. She’s the only family either of us really has left.”

Derek nearly opens his mouth to agree, but stops when he thinks about Stiles asleep upstairs. He thinks about what Stiles said about Derek making a family out of those who had none. Everyone in the pack meant the world to Derek and he loved the little community they’d created. The family. He used to think Twyla was all he had, but he sees now he’s always had so much more. 

He wonders then about Braeden. She’d always been a loner. He knew her mother died when she was young, and she had a father who left her with siblings all over the country that she would never know. When he tried to pick his brain for what family Braeden had, what friends, what support group, it was Boyd’s words that flooded his mind, ‘ _Do you really wannna be responsible for taking Braeden’s family away from her_?’ 

Then he realizes what it is that’s probably changed, and why now. 

“Your dad.”

“What?” Braeden says, stilling and looking into the camera, finally being seen. 

“Melvin, how… is he-”

“Oh, him? He died a couple of months back. One of the youngest girls sent me a letter. I got it last week. Whatever, he didn’t leave me anything.” She’s sitting on the bed fidgeting with her nails. Derek sighs. 

“Come home, Brae.”

***___***

They prepare themselves in their way. Derek tells Twyla that Brae is coming soon for a visit and she starts out contemplative, but soon is bouncing off the walls in excitement. She wants Derek to hang her braesball caps and she suddenly starts coloring lots of pictures of Braeden to give to her when she arrives. 

Derek hates it. He’s trying to remain positive, and he does a pretty good job of saving face in front of his child, but in the night he seethes. That night he fucks Stiles hard, pressing his face into the mattress, exhausting himself of every aggression against the woman. It’s… a lot. 

“Oh fucking _fuck!_ Yes, alpha, fuck me! I love you so much, Der!” Stiles screams, muffled into the pillow as Derek takes his fill. 

“No, Stiles! We’re rage fucking!” He yells, pistoning his hips in and out of the boy, feasting voraciously at the way Stiles’ body submits to being used by him. 

“Oh yeah! Yeah, that’s right- _rage fuck me, you monster_! I fucking rage love you!”

“I rage love you too, baby!” Derek picks Stiles up like a feather still wrapped around his dick and plasters him against the wall, driving into him with reckless abandon. 

Stiles’ hands roam the wall, searching for some kind of anchor other than Derek’s dick, and finally just gives in.

“You fucking wall of man, do it! Own my ass, baby, fucking _own_ it! It’s yours!”

“Yeah!?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Derek cums with a roar and tosses Stiles off his cock and onto the bed like a used rag. He stalks around the room, prowling and feral as Stiles jerks himself off and comes down from his high. They both breathe heavily and Stiles outstretches his arms. 

“Der, come and kiss me.” 

Derek shakes his head, still reeling from his exertion. 

“Kisses are for making love, that was rage fucking, what we just did… we just… rage fucked.” He says, collapsing in a heap on the bed, his legs hanging off the end. 

“Fine!” Stiles yells petulantly flailing out his arms. “Then come fuck my mouth with your tongue! Ooh, then cuddles, boo! Come and rage cuddle me!”

“Can I call her a _bitch_?”

“You get _one_ _bitch_ and that’s it. Then we cuddle, then we go again.”

Derek grunts and grabs onto Stiles’ ankles, pulling him across the duvet and licking rough stripes through the cum on his torso. He kisses up the young man’s chest and plunges his tongue hungrily into Stiles’ mouth, not letting up until both need to breathe. He looks at Stiles and flashes his eyes, his voice growly and deep. 

“ _She’s a fucking bitch!_ ”

Stiles rolls his eyes fondly, “Okay, okay, my rage filled wolf, c’mon, get some more of that aggression ou-!” Stiles yelps as Derek flips him over to his front and begins to eat his own cum out of Stiles’ ass sloppily… and _angrily_!

“Oh fuck you, you bastard! Fuck me, _ommyg-_ ”

And Derek does.

Every single day, several times a day, until Braeden comes back. 

It’s the day she’s supposed to ride into town and Derek is a nervous wreck. He’s checked in with Twyla, tried to keep her expectations in line, as much as you can for a child with a vivid imagination, and now he wants to make sure Stiles is okay. 

“Thanks for being so present and supportive during this.” He says to his mate as they prepare lunch in the kitchen. He saddles up behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around his love and kissing him sweetly on the neck. 

“Of course, babe, I’d do anything for my family.” Stiles turns and kisses Derek deeply before pecking him on the chin. “I’m not promising it’ll be easy, Derek, we both know better than that. But if we stick together, it will be okay.” 

Derek nods, nuzzling Stiles cutely, “But are you going to be okay? When Braeden gets defensive she can get catty, and I know she still feels like she has a lot to prove with you.”

Stiles shrugs, “I’ve spent a large portion of my life being known as ‘ _I know he’s_ _the white boy, but-’_ , I think I can handle your baby mama drama.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and then there’s a ring of the doorbell. He hears Twyla scream and can hear her running from her room. Stiles reaches down and grabs Derek’s hand, squeezing it gently. He looks at Derek and nods. Derek nods, and pulls Stiles with him as he goes to answer the door. 

***___***

She rides slowly through the wooded area, the road is dirt; moist, but not muddy. Not dried out which is nice so she won’t be kicking up dust on her bike as she gets there. She sped up the 10 towards Phoenix, her hair waving outside of her helmet, wearing her leather jacket despite the desert heat. She could have flown, she would have been there in just around 4 hours, but she wanted the time to clear her head and regroup. 

Coming up the 5 she rode with a couple of clubs that let her tag along to the next stop. She’s never been one to have friends, but she knew how to be friendly when she needed. She never really cared before about people liking her, actually kind of got off on people doing the opposite. Even with Derek, she was never concerned whether or not he liked her, she was just always so shocked he did. Maybe that’s why she stayed at first? Allowed herself to be distracted and rooted to one town for far too long. She was a drifter, nomadic, she couldn’t be saddled to a life with a family. That wasn’t her style. 

Or at least she thought. She hadn’t even known her father was sick much less… _dying_. He wasn’t alone, she knew that. Sometime during his twilight he contacted some of his kids, made amends, enough to ensure some kind and gracious soul would take him in the 12th hour and make sure he didn’t die sad and alone. She loved her mother and still missed her to that day, but she never knew Melvin. It seemed he only existed as an urban legend, or worse yet, a cautionary tale. Even though when she was born, and she discovered wasn’t ready for Twyla, she knew she didn’t want to become that _to_ Twyla.

She purrs down the road, leaves crunching underneath her tires as she takes in the idyllic Northern California scenery. Derek always loved nature and his house was tucked deep in the preserve. Close enough to get the amenities he would need, but far enough where he could wake up to bird song and fall asleep to the wind rustling in the trees. It was peaceful and something Derek longed for. It drove Braeden crazy. Sure, she could stand it a week or two at a time here and there, but she was much more at home in a seedy bar, knocking back shots and getting information that it took to get bad guys off the street. 

They’d called her a mercenary which wasn’t quite right, then a bounty hunter which wasn’t quite right either; she thought of herself more as a lawman, just… not strictly inside the law. When she was a marshall, she was too shackled by red tape, rules and regulations. Now she fights crime on her own terms. She collects the baddies, and gets paid handsomely to do so. She’s keeping the streets safe and single handedly keeping a specific boutique that deals in Italian leather in business. Hell, she’s nearly a damned hero!

But can she be a mom?

She thinks about the day they released her from the hospital. Derek was carrying Twyla because Braeden didn’t want to. The writhing little baby filled her with a looming and giant fear. She remembers the nurse talking to both of them and Derek listening intently. One of the orderlies kept looking at her, she knew, Braeden could tell. She’s sure if someone had spoken up, she’d be diagnosed with post-partum and made to stay, but instead they went to Derek’s house where she slept for the next two days. Then she packed her bags and left. 

And she stayed gone, having taken a case that had her in Alaska for a few months, then Texas, Hawaii and New York. Years seemed to pass and she kept busy enough to not notice. Then one day she followed a supernatural trail that of course led her back to Beacon Hills. She’d just gone to the liquor store where she got a bottle of expensive vodka to celebrate taking down a rogue omega. She was walking to her bike and a laugh caught her ear. She wasn’t sure what it was entirely that led her, but the next thing she knew she saw Derek and his… _their_ little girl at the park. It was like seeing a mini version of herself, laughing as she stumbled along the rubber turf of the playground. She screamed as her daddy chased her playfully, her green eyes gone golden in her excitement. 

That night Braeden called Derek and asked for a picture. A month later she asked if she could talk to the girl. And then she asked if she could see her. Derek said no. Braeden got it. She was technically a dead beat mom, she left and she had to deal with that, but… she’s changed. People do that, it’s still a thing. Braeden’s fear turned to regret and she turned that into action. She was going to be a part of her baby’s life. She knew Twyla adored her and she was impressed by the little girl. As much as she could employ the feeling to anyone, she loved Twyla. She thought she was adorable and gifted and talented, and she knows that if she could just be near her, she could… she could be…

Okay, she didn’t quite know what she wanted, but she’d made the drive to be here and to be Twyla’s mother and she was a woman who followed through on every single one of her tasks, she sure as hell wasn’t going to give up now. She was a woman who met her goals, even when… even when she wasn’t completely sure, sure of-

 _Shit-_ what was she doing? 

She looked at her finger which just pressed the bell on the door. She could hear a scream from inside and footsteps approaching the door. She took off her helmet and held it in the crook of her arm. Whatever the ends, this was happening, and she had to see it through. She had to win. 

The door opens and she sees the man she left behind standing on the other side of a threshold she never thought she would have to cross again. 

“Braeden.”

“Hey Derek.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exciting visit rocks Derek's home

“Hey, Derek.” She says, hopeful. She tries to be jovial, she’d settle for convivial… congenial… _chummy_. He regards her with a nod and then turns, leading her into the house. She’s looking around for the little girl. She’s sure she’s in the house somewhere, probably with this so called new mom, the new her, the new Braeden... dammit, what was his name? _Fashionz_? She grins to herself. 

She’s not paying attention and almost runs into Derek who has stopped abruptly in front of her. She can see the tension in his shoulders and he turns around looking at her balefully. 

“Rules, Braeden. We’ve gotten this far with rules and they’re going to continue.”

“Okay, okay Derek, that’s fine, can we-”

“Your visits with her will be supervised.”

“What? What do you think I’m going to do, kidnap her?” The look on Derek’s face tells Braeden that if he didn’t think that before he was definitely thinking it now. She raises up her hands. “Holy shit, I was kidding, I’m so sorry! You need to chill.” 

Derek groans and rolls his eyes as he starts pacing the short length of the hall they’re in. 

“C’mon, Derek. Can’t I just see her and we can figure out the rest later?”

“I need to know you’re serious about this, Braeden. I need to know you won’t run at the first sign of trouble. Stability has gone a long way to keeping the peace around here and you are everything _but_.”

It stings to hear him say it so plainly, to have no regard for her feelings although she knows entirely that it’s true. She shrugs. 

“I get it, you’re the boss, whatever you say goes. I’m not going to go against that, now _please_ , let me see my baby girl!” She presses her hands to her chest and bares her big brown eyes to him. He’s always been a sucker for brown eyes. He grimaces, but he turns and they head through the living room to the back deck. Stiles is sitting in a tire swing, spinning with a laughing Twyla on his lap. Braeden can’t help the tears that come to her eyes. The pair come to a stop and Stiles is about to start winding them up again, but Braeden calls out. 

“Twyla!” She waves, feeling like she’s at the airport holding a sign for her daughter. Twyla jumps off of Stiles’ lap, runs two steps and stops. She looks at her daddy who is leaning against the door still looking like a man ready to be unhinged. And then she looks back at Stiles, who nods and shoos her towards Braeden. Twyla turns and takes a few steps slowly before turning back around and grabbing Stiles’ hand, dragging him with her. 

Braeden will feel offended about it later. For now she’s grinning ear to ear as she walks down the steps of the back deck and kneels as Twyla comes closer. Twyla is still a bit apprehensive, but she explodes into a run as soon as Braeden opens her arms. 

“I can’t believe it’s you! I can’t believe you’re actually here!” She yells directly into Braeden’s ear, causing her to laugh.

“Yes, baby, I’m here,” She looks over at Derek who is watching them skeptically. Stiles looks… sympathetic. “Mama’s here, baby.”

Derek turns and walks into the house as Braeden spins the little girl in the air, causing her to shriek in delight. 

“Do you want to show me your swing?” Braeden asks. Twyla looks at the swing.

“That’s Stiles’ and my swing. He put it in.” Twyla explains, seeming a bit conflicted.

“Well, why don’t you show me how it works, honey?” Braeden insists. 

“Okay, c’mon!” Twyla grabs Braeden’s hand and they run to the large wilderness oak in the center of the yard. 

Derek watches from inside. 

“I don’t trust her.” 

“I know you don’t, babe.”

“Do you?” Derek questions, looking at Stiles for any type of reaction. He doesn’t look as pensive as Derek, but he does look worried.

“I… I don’t know.” He says, shrugging lightly. “I gotta admit, boo, this is new territory for me. I don’t know her at all. I just feel like all of this happened so fast, maybe too fast.” He wraps his arm around Derek’s waist and sets his head on his mate’s shoulder. Derek drapes his arm over Stiles’ shoulder and kisses his forehead. They both look out where Braeden is spinning on the tire swing and Twyla is laughing and cheering her on.

“I don’t trust her.”

***

“So, Stiles, do you have any kids?” Braeden is sitting at the table nursing a mug of tea while Derek helps Twyla change. Stiles is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner and otherwise preoccupying himself since he was left alone with Braeden. 

“Just Twyla,” Stiles says as if by habit. He catches himself and stills before looking carefully over his shoulder at Braeden, “none of my own though, I’m what they call, _suuuuper_ gay.”

Braeden smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“It’s nice that you’ve helped Twyla, it is, but I’m back now and I’m all in. Twyla’s got a mom and dad now.” She says smiling into her cup. Stiles wipes his hand on a towel and tosses it on the counter before leaning forward resting on his elbows. Braeden considers him briefly, “She doesn’t need two moms.” 

Stiles smiles at her politely, “You can never have too many people that love you. Besides, she’s not going to have two moms, Braeden, she’ll have you and she’ll have two dads, and the rest of her pack. It takes a village you know.”

Braeden huffs, “I didn’t need a village.”

“You didn’t have one. She does.”

****

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she, daddy?” Twyla asks, hopping around her room with her arms raised over her head, waiting for Derek to slide her sweater on.

“Yes, Orange Blossom.” He says, trying to gently pull it over her head. She’s picked the yellow one with the brown sleeping wolf cub on it. It made her green eyes shine. 

“Does she think I’m pretty?” Twyla asks excitedly as she pulls on her socks, “Do I look like her?”

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and you look like you.” Derek assures her, “But I need you to calm down, sweetie, you’re gonna get tired out.”

“I can’t believe she’s here, can you believe she’s here?!”

“Actually no.” Derek can’t help but say. Twyla doesn’t seem to notice. 

“How long will she stay, do you think? Can she take me to school? Can I ride on her bike? How about the salon?”

“No you can’t ride on her bike! And I take you to the salon, Orange Blossom, or Stiles does.”

“I know, daddy, but salon is for ladies to get their hair done! You just sit there and make jokes with Titi Bernie!” Twyla says with a smile as she pulls Derek towards the door.

“Well, Ms. Bernie is my friend and I enjoy spending time with her.”

“I _know_ , daddy! You can come too, I just really, really want Brae to come, please?!”

Derek looks at Twyla’s sparkling seafoam green eyes and knows he’s already done for. 

“Fine, I’ll ask her about it.”

“Yay! Thank you, daddy!” She says, hugging him tight around the neck and kissing his cheek, “I love you!” 

“I love you too, sweet pea.” Derek says, holding her at arm’s length and looking at her sweetly. “Orange Blossom, I know this is probably an impossible request, but… don’t get your hopes too far up, okay? We’ve talked about this, Braeden is just a human, everyone has their limits. It doesn’t mean she loves you any less if she’s not superwoman.”

Twyla nods and then looks contemplative. 

“She looks lonely.” She says quietly petting the little wolf on her sweater.

“What makes you say that?” Derek asks, caressing her soft cheek. She shrugs and then seems to file it away for later. 

“Okay, I’m ready! Let’s go!” She grabs Derek’s hand and drags him towards the stairs. 

***

Twyla bounds down the stairs with Derek on her heels and runs into the kitchen where Braeden is sitting at the table. Braeden pats a seat on the bench beside her and starts telling Twyla how much she likes her sweater, causing the little girl to beam with pride. 

Derek feels a little bit of tension and catches Stiles’ eye, but the young man shakes his head, waving him off. 

“Daddy, can I show Braeden the den where we do the braecalls?” Twyla asks. Derek nods and Stiles comes around the island.

“Sure thing, sweet pea. I’ll open it up for you.”

“What, is it locked or something?” Braeden asks.

“Yeah, it’s an office, there’s a code” Stiles looks at Twyla grinning, “A man’s gotta have a code.” Twyla bursts into giggles and Braeden sees Derek roll his eyes. Stiles grabs Twyla’s hand and they start into the hallway.

“You have buried treasure in there, Derek?” Braeden asks cutely. Derek looks unamused. 

“Mostly just files and papers, important family documents, etc.”

“And Stiles knows the code?” She asks again, this time less affably.

“Well, yeah, he’s my mate.” 

“You two have only known each other for about a year, right?”

“I knew right away, Braeden.”

Braeden snorts, “Derek, you thought I was your mate!”

“I never thought-” Derek stops himself when he sees her expression, and clears his throat. “I mean, I thought I didn’t have one. Then I met Stiles.”

“We’re here, Brae, c’mon!”

Braeden looks and see Twyla at the door, signaling for her to follow. She breezes past Stiles who is watching her with a schooled expression on his face. She can hear Derek whispering something to him behind her, but she ignores it, looking around. 

It’s a normal office, rich in leather and bookcases, wooden filing cabinets and a desk with a huge computer. Twyla climbs into the chair and points at the Mac. 

“This is where I sit when we talk!” Braeden goes to the desk and sees a bunch of pictures under the desk protector. Most are of Twyla and there are some of the pack and Stiles. One catches Braeden’s eye. 

“What’s this?” she asks. It’s a picture of Derek asleep with one arm slung back over his head. Twyla is laying on his chest, her arm swung back the same way, her little hand laying on his cheek. Both have their heads turns the same way and appear peaceful and happy. Stiles looks at the pictures wistfully. 

“Aww, those are my little snuggle wolves!” He exclaims, tickling Twyla who giggles before throwing her arms around Stiles and nuzzling into his neck. He rubs her back. 

“There was a storm and Twy-twy wanted to come sleep with her papas because why-”

“Because when we’re scared we should find somewhere we feel safe.” Twyla recites.

“That’s right! So she wanted a glass to water and she and Derek made _me_ go out to get it-”

“You were closest to the door!” Derek defends.

“Derek, the bed is in the middle of the room!”

“The bathroom is on your side!”

“Anyhow, these two lazy chickens-”

“Excuse you, we’re lazy wolves!” Twyla pouts, biting at Stiles’ shoulder. Derek furrows his brow in faux offense.

“Yeah!”

“On my way back, I come back in... to _that_.” Stiles finishes, indicating the picture. “It was so damned cute, I had to snap a pic.”

Twyla grins big and looks at Braeden who slightly grimaces. 

“I don’t know, sounds creepy.” She says, looking at Derek and then at Stiles. 

“Creepy? Why would me and daddy taking a nap be creepy?” Twyla says looking at the picture, perhaps in a new light. Stiles looks at Derek who is glaring at Braeden. She ignores him. 

“I don’t know how I would feel about some guy taking pictures of me and my daughter asleep, that’s all.”

“Why not?” Twyla asks confused.

“He’s not just _some guy_ and you know that, Braeden.” Derek says, serious as a heart attack, “Stop it, or we can say goodnight right now.” Braeden looks ready to retaliate, but Stiles intercedes. 

“What she means, sweet pea, is that if it were just some guy it might be creepy. But since it’s me it’s fine because I love you _sooooo_ much!”

“I love you too, Stiles!” Twyla nods, satisfied, she turns to Braeden, “It’s not creepy, and it makes daddy smile!” She says matter-of-factly. Braeden nods and smiles.

“Hey, is food ready?” All heads turn towards the door where Isaac is standing. 

“Uncle Isaac!” Twyla screams, running into his arms. Isaac scoops her up and looks around. 

“So… food? Oh, hey Braeden!”

“Hey, Isaac.” Braeden says, shaking her head at how nonchalant the boy is being, and the fact that it’s completely genuine. 

Derek leaves the room with Braeden behind him and as Stiles comes out he slaps Isaac on the back of the head. 

“Ouch, what was that for?!” 

Stiles points two fingers at his eyes and then at Isaac who has already stopped paying attention and started listening to Twyla talk about her day. 

Dinner starts out more smoothly than anticipated on all fronts. Everyone is civil and congenial despite the undercurrent of tension that seems to simmer just under the surface. It’s a heady feeling, and all can feel it which is why most of the chatter remains “surface or greater”. Good spirits interact jovially until Twyla asks about Braeden taking her to the salon later that week. 

“The one where you get your hair braided? Sure, sounds great!” Twyla smiles, but Stiles looks at Derek confused. Derek shakes his head and Stiles tilts his prompting a waggle from Derek. Braeden watches them.

“It’s like you two have your own secret language.” She says flippantly.

“They do!” Twyla says happily, “And me and daddy do too, at least that’s what Stiles says.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Derek who wiggles them back at her with a little wink causing the little girl to dissolve into giggles. Braeden is less amused.

“I just… the way you said, ‘ _that’s where you get your hair braided’_ it just made it seem like-” Stiles trails off, looking at Derek and then looking like he was regretting starting the phrase to begin with. 

“Seem like what?” Braeden asks, playing with one of Twyla’s twists.

“Like umm… you know what? Nothing, it’s fine.” Stiles waves it off and gets up to start putting dishes in the sink. Braeden shrugs and tugs lightly on Twyla’s braid. 

“Well, I’m excited to see where my baby gets her hair done! Meet the lady who got her tresses back in order after daddy melted down.”

“Brae-” Derek says tiredly.

“We both melted down, whatever they did to my hair stuff was _not_ right!” Twyla says looking sympathetically at her dad. “But it wasn’t a lady who fixed my hair, it was Stiles!”

Stiles, whose back is turned to everyone as he arranges dishes in the sink, lets out a long exhale and turns around to the shocked expression on Braeden’s face. The one he was hoping to avoid.

“Wait, _what_?” She gawps predictably.

“Stiles works at Titi Bernie’s!” Twyla nods excitedly. 

“Who? Wait, back up, _you’re_ the one that’s been doing my daughter’s hair? Derek, you let him touch her hair?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He works at the shop, he’s a professional.” Derek says, unable to mask his annoyance. 

“What do you mean _let me touch her hair_?” Stiles fumes, stepping closer.

“I thought you were like… I don’t know, the stock boy or I guess, a barber? Why do you do hair?”

“Because it’s my job! What the fu-”

“It’s your _job_? You’re a grown man that does hair for a living? _Black_ hair? In Meadow Heights? Well, I guess I know who’s the earner in this family, and who’s earning their keep.”

The silence is palpable. Derek stares in shock, completely flummoxed at the nerve of Braeden to be so oddly callous with his mate. Stiles is taking deep breaths with his mouth closed knowing as soon as he opens it, curses will fill the air. Twyla is close to tears, and confused. 

“Hey, Twyla!” Isaac says suddenly, stilling when every eye in the room lands on him. He clears his throat and focuses on Twyla who watches him with watery eyes. “Do we have a secret language too? What am I trying to say?” Isaac then blows his cheeks out and makes a raspberry face at the girl. Twyla cracks up and then Isaac stands, reaching out to her. 

“Uncle Isaac, the only thing that face says is you’re a big silly head.”

“Oh my gosh, that was it! You got it!” He says, bouncing her up and down, “Let’s go into the living room and see if you figure out the rest. We’ll see you guys in a few!” 

Twyla waves at everyone and continues laughing as Isaac carries her out. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Derek hisses at Braeden. 

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing? You don’t get to come here and disrespect my mate, Braeden, what the fuck?”

“You’re telling me you don’t think it’s odd that the shampoo boy at a local salon wants to take up with the alpha of Beacon Hills? It never occurred to you not to fall in love with some gold digging hood rat? I haven’t trusted you since the day I found out about you and now I know why!” Braeden says, pointing a finger accusingly at Stiles. 

“The fuck business is it of yours who I fall in love with? You don’t want- wait, what? Shampoo boy? He’s the head braider, and they charge like $200 a head, I think he’s doing just fine money-wise.”

“Head braider?”

“Co-Owner.” Stiles says quietly. Both Braeden and Derek snap their heads to him confused. Stiles sighs. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business- well, not yours Braeden, Derek, I was going to tell you when we started talking about the wedding-”

“The wedding?!” Braeden asks, prompting an eyeroll of epic proportion from Derek. Stiles ignores them.

“When Tara died, I came down to deliver the news to Berneice because Tara was part owner in the shop. Bernie offered me Tara’s share and I asked to be head braider. She also gave me the side-eye, but I showed her what I could do, and she took me in.” He looks at Braeden carefully, “and you were right, I’m a grown man who does black hair for a living. I’m also a grown ass man who can support myself and my family financially if needed. And because Derek and I talk about everything and communicate openly, my boyfriend and I will discuss how I’ll contribute to our daughter and our family on our own, thank you very much.” 

Stiles goes and kisses Derek on the cheek before heading for the living room. Derek shakes his head and looks at Braeden. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself? For why you’re being such a bitch?” 

Braeden looks at him sullenly and then looks down the hall where Stiles disappeared. 

“Who the fuck is Tara?”

“Jesus- _fucking-”_

“Daddy! Brae! Come in here so we can play!” Twyla yells from the living room. Derek throws his hands up and stands walking to the living room. Braeden takes a moment and then follows. 

***

She walks into the living room and sees Isaac and Stiles making faces at each other. 

“The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog!” Stiles exclaims as Isaac nods excitedly. Twyla is laughing. 

“How are you doing that?!? How do you know what he’s saying!?” She squeals from the ground. Braeden sits on the couch and watches as Derek kneels over the little girl poking her in the sides. “Daddy stop! I have to figure out how they’re doing it!”

Stiles blows his cheeks out at Isaac and then crosses his eyes before doing a little dance.

“How now brown cow?” Isaac asks. Stiles nods and Isaac whoops!

“Oh my gosh, _hoooow_!?” Twyla wheezes, as Derek keeps poking her. “Daddy, stop!”

“I’m helping you, Orange Blossom.” he says simply, smiling as he continues poking her. She rolls away and runs to Braeden climbing into her lap. After catching her breath she looks at the woman. 

“Where are you staying tonight?” 

“Uhhh…” Braeden looks around at the faces Twyla can’t see. Isaac throws up both hands and _nopes_ out of the room. Stiles looks pained at the thought of sharing a roof with her, and Derek’s face holds the Hale-perfected _‘bitch, you guessed it_ ’ look of refusal. Braeden sighs. 

She hadn’t really thought about it; she kept her options open in case the evening went great and they invited her to stay. God forbid, the mother of their so called daughter not have a place at the inn, and apparently, she did not. 

“I got a little hotel downtown! It’s got a pool, maybe you can come swim this week?”

Twyla looks at Derek who is standing beside Stiles with an arm wrapped around him. 

“We’ll see if there’s time.” He says, coldly. Braeden knew it was a clear shut down, but Twyla still bounces around excitedly. 

***___***

“So… how are you?” Derek asks, checking in on Stiles later that night as they ready for bed. The rest of the evening went okay. At the first yawn, Derek allowed Braeden to help Twyla get ready for bed and then they set a time she would be able to come the next day to spend time with her. 

This time it was Stiles’ turn to rage fuck Derek in the shower. Derek’s lying down, watching Stiles finish folding some of Twyla’s laundry. He finds his mind clears when he’s doing something with his hands. Stiles shakes his head. 

“That… was harder than I thought it would be.” Stiles confesses as he neatly folds skirts and rolls tights and pairs together lacy socks. 

“You held your own.” Derek says, impressed by the way Stiles handled Braeden’s baiting. “You were an inspiration to me, honey eyes. So many times I wanted to explode and I didn’t because you kept your cool so well.”

“I still let her get under my skin. It’s been a long time since I let someone do that.” 

“What about me?” Derek asks with a smirk. Stiles turns and throws a balled up sock at Derek’s head. Derek pouts and rubs his noggin causing Stiles to abandon the basket and crawl up the bed, giving Derek’s boo boo a little kiss. 

“You got yourself in there good didn’t you? Just all embedded in my skin?” Stiles teases, planting little kisses on Derek’s brow, his cheeks, his nose, his upper lip. Derek kisses him back sweetly. 

“And I’m never leaving so I guess you’ll have to just marry me.”

“Well I guess you’re just gonna have to ask aren’t you?” 

Derek shrugs, “I don’t know, I feel like you’re gonna see it coming.”

“Aww,” Says Stiles, enveloping himself in Derek’s arms and running his fingers through the hair on his chest, “that’s cute you think I give a shit. I want my proposal big and tacky as hell, Derek! Are flash mobs still a thing?” 

“Well now I’m reconsidering.” Derek says, scrunching his nose. Stiles smooths his brow.

“Boo Wolf?”

“No, Stiles.”

“You don’t think the pic of you and Twy napping is creepy, do you?” Stiles wonders shyly. He looks up at Derek who is looking at him softly. 

“Of course not, Stiles. It’s my favorite and I love it so much.”

“Good.” Stiles says, confident in his choice.

“Although…”

“What?” Stiles sits up and looks down at Derek’s now… guilty expression?

“It’s just that… I don’t know if I can be the best judge? I have a _lot_ of pictures of you sleeping… _naked_.”

“What? Really?” Stiles asks, subconsciously covering his tits over his sleep shirt. 

“Yeah, mostly after you passed out on my dick.”

“Bear!”

“They’re in a folder on my phone that’s protected with my fingerprint!”

“How did you even learn how to do that?”

“Is that creepy?”

“Derek! Hell yes, it’s fucking creepy!” Stiles admonishes the wolf before just shrugging and wrapping himself around him again. “But dammit it works for me. It’s romantic? Am I being _Stockholmed_?”

“Maybe? Wanna take some more now?”

“Damn, kinda. But you know Twyla is gonna wake up in the middle of the night and wanna come in.”

“Well then we should get started now?”

Stiles rests his head on his hands and his hands on Derek’s chest, watching the wolf’s glistening eyes in the moonlight. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Derek.” He says, though his eyes are more questioning. Derek nods. 

“Yes, Stiles, everything’s going to be okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twyla's week

Twyla Hale’s week goes like this:

On Monday she goes to school and tells all of her friends about her mom coming to visit. Everyone seems very happy and excited for her. They ask her questions and Twyla shows them a picture her daddy took of the two of them in the backyard. Mrs. Sanderson said that Twyla looked just like her mom, and both were very pretty. Twyla felt very happy and even happier when she went outside and Stiles and Braeden were waiting for her! She walked slowly to the SUV and as she does she looks around. She normally sees her friends going to their mom’s cars, and now she’s going to _her_ mom’s and she can’t believe it. As she gets closer she runs to Braeden hugging her tight. Braeden laughs and opens the door for Twyla, closing it after she hops in. Twyla looks around, a little confused until Stiles reopens the door and helps Twyla into her booster seat.

“She’s not too old for that?”

“I don’t know Braeden, how old do you think she is?”

Twyla doesn’t understand that question. Her daddy told her that booster seats are for safety and when she gets taller she won’t need it. She doesn’t mind it, and wonders why Braeden does.

Tuesday is special because Braeden is supposed to pick Twyla up after school all by herself and they were going to go back to Braeden’s hotel where Twyla could swim. Twyla was a strong swimmer and she was fast so she was sure Braeden would be impressed. After school Twyla ran outside excitedly, but stopped when she saw Stiles and the SUV, but no Braeden.

“Don’t worry, sweet pea! Braeden is at the house!” Stiles explains to her quickly. She starts breathing again, not realizing she’d stopped. “There was a… uhh, a mix-up with Braeden getting a car. She tried to find a sidecar for her bike, but Derek was like, definitely no-” Stiles is rambling now, which Twyla notices he does when he’s trying to explain something complicated to her. Like why he and daddy take showers together, or why he still hasn’t given her all the quarters he owes from that time when she saw them, and Twyla is getting confused. She doesn’t quite know what a sidecar is but she guesses it’s something that goes on the side of a car? And if daddy didn’t like it then it must not be safe -Daddy wouldn’t even let her ride in the Jeep outside of the preserve- but then why would Braeden try to get something for her that wasn’t safe?

They go back to the house and Braeden packs Twyla into the SUV after Stiles shows her how to work the booster seat. That night Braeden shows Twyla how to do a backflip into the pool. Twyla knows Daddy isn’t going to like that, and she’s scared, but Braeden shows her and she does it causing Braeden to applaud when she’s done. They eat chicken fingers, french fries and chocolate shakes for dinner. Twyla falls asleep on the ride home, and wakes up to Braeden hugging her goodbye. It was a good day.

Wednesday Braeden is supposed to pick up Twyla after soccer practice. She’s late and it’s raining and Twyla was cold and getting sad. Later she’ll understand the feeling as irritation, but in that moment she’s too blinded by her love to understand her discomfort. She finally sees a car turn the corner and honk at her. Braeden rushes out and runs to Twyla.

“Hey sweetie, sorry I’m late! I reserved the car and the one they gave me smelled like smoke so I had to kick some ass there and then they didn’t have the right booster seat and honestly, I still think you’re getting a little too big for a car seat, right?” She looks at Twyla and Twyla doesn’t know what to say because daddy told her to always ride in a booster seat so she doesn’t say anything. Braeden is still looking at her expectantly and they stay like that for a moment until Braeden shrugs. “Anyhow, I got the seat! Let’s go!” They were supposed to go to a movie, but they need to go to the hotel first.

“Mama has a meeting with someone who is going to be her boss. She wants me to find a very bad man so he won’t hurt people anymore.” Braeden explains importantly to Twyla. Twyla nods, excited to learn more about what Braeden does for work. She’s asked her daddies who try to explain, but all she really knows is that Brae is like a cop, but _not_ a cop.

“Are you like Batman? Stiles says he’s a viganty.” Twyla asks Braeden who smiles.

“A _vigilante_ , sweetie, and yeah, I guess I am kinda like Batman. Well, Batwoman at least. You think I would look good with a cape?” she asks. Twyla nods. She would look great with a cape.

Thursday is a big day for Twyla. After school, Braeden is going to pick her up and they’re going to go to Titi Bernie’s.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to meet the woman who’s on _titi_ status with my baby.” Braeden quips, though her smile doesn’t fully reach her eyes. It’s times like these when Twyla sees something in Braeden she doesn’t fully understand. If she were to fully understand the concept of a facade, she would know that these are the times when Braeden’s starts to crack, exposing her own inner child, probably one not much older than Twyla herself. Sometimes Twyla can see that little girl, and she looks so lost.

They walk into the salon which has the usual bunch for a Thursday night. Ms. Berneice is sitting in her chair flipping through a magazine, Marie is sitting in her own chair across from her. Stiles is doing a head tonight with long intricate braids, he’s been at it most of the day, and Jeanquisha is finishing up a shampoo for one of Marie’s clients. Ms. Berneice looks up and smiles brightly when she sees Twyla.

“Well, hey there, little miss!” She calls out, holding out her arms to deliver Twyla a warm hug. Twyla loves Titi Bernie a lot. She’s tall like Twyla hopes she’ll be one day, and she’s got a smile that fills up the whole room. She hopes she likes her mom.

“And who do we have here, pumpkin?” Berneice asks, holding her hand out to Braeden.

“That’s my Br- my mom!” Twyla says excitedly.

“Why hello there, mom! I’m Ms. Berneice.”

“Hi, its Braeden, Braeden is fine. Umm, I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, Berneice.” Braeden says, looking up at the woman whose height looms over her. Berneice smiles kindly and points to a chair, inviting Braeden to sit. Twyla waves at Stiles whose hands are full and giggles when he winks back.

“So… this is the salon.” Braeden says looking around, “It’s great to finally meet you all, Twyla talks about you all the time. This is a really nice shop.” Twylas grins, proud and full of life. Marie chuckles,

“Yeah, we’ve become real attached to this old pile of bricks. It’s nice to have somewhere to let your hair down.”

“What?” Braeden says, preoccupied by something on her phone.

“Hair down? Salon?”

“Oh.”

“Wow.” Marie looks at Berneice with wide eyes and Berneice shoos at her. Twyla looks between the two and then at Braeden who doesn’t seem to notice.

“Twyla, baby! You happy to have your Brae here?”

“Her mom, I’m her mom.” Brae says, winking at Twyla. Twyla giggles nervously, she doesn’t know why she still feels weird when Braeden gets insistent. Twyla nods.

“We’ve been having a lot of fun. Brae taught me how to do a backflip in the pool!”

“What’s that?” Stiles calls out from his station. Braeden waves him off.

“It’s fine, I had my eyes on her the whole time.”

“Eyes? Braeden-”

“Twyla, sweetness,” Berneice interrupts, side-eyeing the both of them. “Why don’t you sing her that song Titi Bernie loves so much!”

Twyla’s eyes light up! She loves singing and dancing and she hasn’t had a chance to show Braeden yet. She stands and holds out her hand like a fake mic and does just like Titi taught her.

“ _I’ve been really trying, baby! Trying to hold back this feeling, for so long!_ ” Twyla belts out.

“What?!” Braeden cries out, shocked and amused.

“Ms. Bernie!” Marie yells before doubling over in laughter.

“Let the baby sang! C’mon girl!” Berneice motions for Twyla to continue so she does.

“ _And if you feel, like I feel, sugah! C’mon, oh! C’mon… Let’s get along…”_

“Dammit, Bernie, what are you teaching my daughter!?” Stiles says again. He looks like he’s trying to quickly finish a part so he can come over. Twyla always wonders why they make such a fuss, it’s always funny though. She looks at her mom who doesn’t seem like she’s having fun. She was, but then something changed, Twyla wonders if Stiles said something that upset her?

“My little girl can sing!” Braeden says, watching Stiles, missing the way the other women roll their eyes. “But, honey, why are you saying _Let’s Get Along_? It’s _Let’s Get it On._ ” Twyla looks at Berneice who is shaking her head at Braeden and then at Stiles who is watching her pensively.

“Braeden, really? Are you serious?” He asks. Twyla looks back at Braeden.

“What? It’s Marvin Gaye. Those are the words!” Braeden insists. Twyla squints, were those the words? And if so, why did Titi Bernie tell Twyla something different? What’s _getting it on_?

“What’s _Let’s get it on_?” Twyla asks. Marie points at Twyla and then smirks at Braeden.

“Gone on, Mama. Explain to your baby all about the birds and the bees. I can’t wait to hear what Derek has to say about this, ha!”

“Now, Marie hush!”

“What? I’m not the one-”

“Girl!” Berneice says with a warning tone. Marie shrugs and sits back in her chair flipping through a magazine.

“There will be no birds and bees-splaining here!” Stiles says, still braiding. Twyla loves how fast his fingers move when he does it. “Twyla that was lovely, sweetie, Braeden was just confused.”

Twyla looks at Braeden who looks… not happy, not happy at all. Twyla can’t understand why. Was it because she didn’t know the words to the song? She didn’t know she wasn’t singing it right. She still doesn’t know what _getting it on_ even is. Maybe Braeden wants to hear a different song and maybe that will make her happy? Twyla is about to suggest something else, but she sees Braeden standing and grabbing her purse. She looks like she’s about to leave. Where is is she going?

“Are you leaving, Brae?” Twyla asks, shocked and rankled. She tries to stand from her seat, but Marie holds her there gently.

“Uhh, yeah honey, and it’s _mom_ , you can call me- umm, I forgot about an errand I had to run-” Braeden lies clearly as she grabs her coat.

“Is this about the song, I’m sorry-” Twyla is desperate to understand what’s happening. Why is Brae leaving?

“No, baby, Mr. Stiles was right. I was just confused, you’re perfect, etc etc, I gotta go-”

“Can I come!?” Twyla asks hopefully. She looks at Stiles who is watching Braeden and clearly trying to catch her eye, but Braeden is avoiding him and heading towards the door.

“No, baby, but I’ll come back and pick you up later, you got her, Stiles?”

“Braeden, what the-” Stiles starts and then looks at Twyla. Twyla wishes Braeden would look at her, but she doesn’t… she won’t.

“Yeah, I got her-” Stiles says, rushing and trying to find a stopping point. Braeden doesn’t hear him, just shouts out her own “Bye, sweetie, love you!” as she flies out the door.

“There she goes,” Marie says, shaking her head.

Twyla watches as Braeden walks briskly away, she doesn’t look back once. Twyla sits in her chair and stews. She’s kicking the chair, it makes a loud noise every time, _whump… whump… whump…._ Twyla imagines it’s the sound Braeden’s boots make as they walk away. It’s the sound her heart makes, loud and overwhelming in her ears.

“Sweetie, please stop that.” Stiles asks her. She’s about to stop, but for some reason she can’t. Maybe it’s the sound of something chasing her, or the sound of her running away. She can’t hear her thoughts if she’s making that sound. She can’t hear the thoughts that although she loves Braeden very much, she loves her… her _mom_ , she doesn’t understand her. She doesn’t understand why she does the things she does. Why she doesn’t want-

“Sweetheart, I’m almost done here, please stop with the kicking!” Stiles says as he tries to finish the section he’s on. Mari stands and goes to help him.

“Don’t worry, girl, I’mma sub in a strand so Stiles can handle his business, is that cool?” She asks the client who agrees. Twyla kicks her feet faster, banging them against the chair louder and louder, Stiles is getting exasperated.

“Twyla, I have asked you twice, please stop that, baby. I’m almost done.”

“Where is she going?” Twyla asks. There’s got to be more to it, right? Maybe she did have an errand, a very important one that had to be done right that minute?

“Sweetie, she had something to do.”

“But she’s not from here, what if she gets lost?!” What if her navigation didn’t work to get back home. Meadow Heights was big, as least to Twyla, imagine how it would feel to someone who wasn’t from here, or didn’t know Ms. Berneice?

“She’s a big girl, she can find her way.” Stiles says hurriedly.

“No, she’s lost, we have to go find her.” Because that’s what you did when things were lost. One time Ms. Creacher lost her kitten and Twyla found it. She wanted to keep it, but daddy explained that things that are lost belong to people and they will be sad until they’re returned. Twyla understood that in that moment.

“She’ll be okay, my love.”

“No!”

“Twyla!” Stiles says, looking quickly from the parts he’s trying to ready for Marie to take, over at the girl who is fuming and staring at the door. Twyla doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem to notice she’s _still_ kicking the chair.

“We have to find her! I wanna go find her and you won’t let me!” She glares at Stiles with big tears in her eyes. She has to fix whatever is wrong, whatever made Braeden go away, this time, and maybe the last time too.

“Twyla, now you know better than to yell at Stiles like that!” Marie says, shaking a finger at the girl and shooing Stiles away to go deal with Twyla. He looks at her with both hands on his hips.

“C’mon Twy, let’s go to the back and talk.” Stiles holds out his hand to her and she wants to go, she knows she should, but she _can’t_.

“I wanna go find my mom! She’s out there and she’s alone and she’s scared and we have to find her!” She yells, words devolving into tears that slide down her puffy little cheeks. She jumps out of her seat and faces the door. Stiles watches her carefully.

“Twyla, don’t you _dare_.” He says to her.

She runs.

She makes it to the door and as she’s about to reach up to open it, she hears her name being said. Her _full_ name.

“Twyla Natalia Hale!”

Twyla stops dead in her tracks and turns slowly, eyes moving up as she watches Berneice walk slowly up to her. She doesn’t crouch down or bend over like she normally does, she simply walks up to Twyla and looks down at her. She holds out her hand, which is holding a phone.

“Your daddy wants to talk to you.”

Twyla’s eyes get bigger, she hadn’t really thought this through, and now she was in trouble? She tries to look around Berneice for support from Stiles, but Berneice steps to the side blocking her view. She shows Twyla the phone again and Twyla take it timidly.

“Daddy?”

“ _Orange Blossom, Ms Bernie called me and said you’ve been acting up. And I heard you yelling at Stiles_.”

“I wasn’t yelling!” Twyla insists, it instantly feels untrue so she tries again, “Brae left and I know she’s lost and what if she’s in trouble?!”

“ _What do you mean, Braeden left? Wait, nevermind, I’ll figure that out later, sweetie, but first we need to talk about why you were yelling. I know you’re upset about Brae, but we don’t act out towards people we love do we?_ ”

“But, daddy!”

“ _Do we? Twyla, I raised you better than that. You know it’s not okay to be mean to others or to hurt their feelings on purpose._ ”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

“ _You hurt Stiles’ feelings._ ”

“I did!?” Twyla runs around Berneice and looks at Stiles who is standing in the middle of the floor with his head down and arms crossed. He looks forlorn. Twyla gasps, “I didn’t mean to!” She whispers contritely, half to him and half to her dad on the phone.

“ _It sounds like it was a mistake then, and what do we do when we make mistakes?_ ”

“We apologize and make it better.”

“ _So what do you need to do, Orange Blossom?_ ”

Twyla nods and then hands the phone back to Berneice before launching herself at Stiles. He catches her quickly, falling to his knees on the floor and hugging her tightly.

“I’m so sorry, papa! I didn’t mean to be mean! I just got scared and sad and I didn’t know what to do!”

Stiles holds her close, allowing her to scent his neck and trying to push out as many comforting and forgiving vibes as he can.

“Oh sweetpea, thank you so much! I love you, baby!” He says, rocking her gently and rubbing small circles into her little back. “I’m sorry you’re sad, my love.”

Ms. Bernie is talking softly on the phone and hands it over to Stiles.

“Thank you, babe… no, it’s fine. I’ll explain when we get home…. Soon.”

“She said she was coming back.” Twyla whispers softly. She knows she got away with a lot tonight and doesn’t know how much more she can push it, but Stiles just looks at her and nods.

“We’ll wait, sweetie. We’ll wait.”

***___***

Fucking hair salon _bitches_.

Braeden speeds down the street, honking her horn and weaving in and out of cars. The fucking nerve of those women to treat her like that! Like she was dumb, she wasn’t dumb! Sitting around laughing at her. They’re probably laughing now, and she knows Stiles told them about the carseat, about how Derek fucking yelled at her like a little kid when she’d suggested the sidecar. Oh they’re probably having a fucking _ball_ at her expense, well fuck them!

“Fuck them!” She shouts out to no one. She sees what looks to be a little bar and pulls over. Yup, fuck them, she’ll have a few drinks, forget about them and then go and pick up Twyla and-

Shit- Twyla.

Braeden’s eyes widen as she thinks about the way her little girl looked when she left. It was the way Braeden used to look when her dad… well, Melvin would leave.

What was she doing?

No, wait, nope, this wasn’t going to be her come to Jesus moment. She was pissed and she had a right to be! Ever since she’d rolled into this town, someone has had a stick up their ass about her being here. The only person with their shit together was… Twyla. Braeden deflates again, sitting back in her seat and staring out the window at the neon _Budweiser_ sign in the window.

Okay, so she acted like an ass at dinner, she gets that. She could see herself doing it in the moment, but couldn’t stop herself. Stiles had a way of getting under her skin just as a general state of being. Under other circumstances she might like him, but not when he’s trying to replace her.

Replacements never work and it’s best he learned that now, right? She remembers her mom trying to replace her dad with some guy. Uncle Tommy tried to be a dad for Braeden, but she didn't’ want him, she wanted Melvin! Well, she didn’t want Melvin, she was too proud for that, but she wanted Melvin to want her. And she doesn’t think he ever really did. When the girl sent the letter to Braeden, she said he asked about her, but Braeden doesn’t believe that. He could have found her. Sure, she traveled around a lot, and stayed gone for long, periods of time, but he could have… he was the adult, if he wanted to he could have…

A tear slides down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away, or even acknowledge it, because acknowledging it would mean more would follow, and she can’t deal with that right now. Maybe not ever. She sits there for hours, trying to figure out what to do, where to go. She could pull out, take an access road back to the 5 and go again, become her father completely, or she could stay and prove… she could prove that she can do _this_ , that she wants… _this_.

She pulls out of the parking lot and drives slowly back to the salon.

 

***

She walks in and sees the salon empty save for Berneice who is sweeping up and getting ready to close. Braeden looks around.

“They left?! I told him I was coming back.”

“Well hello to you too, dear!” Berneice says, walking around Braeden and flipping the sign on the door. She locks it and then takes the broom and dustpan to the back room to put them away.

“I can’t believe he just took her! He should have called me.”

“I’m not entirely sure why he had to, but I know he tried. I sat and watched him do it.” Berneice says from the back before coming out and sitting in her chair.

“Of course he had to!” Braeden yells, not even bothering to check her phone, “I’m her mother and I said I would be back. He’s making me out to be a liar!”

“Girl, it is 9:00 pm on a Thursday night. You think he was going to have her out here waiting for you so you could feel good about your little tantrum?”

“I stayed up late all the time! I’m her mom-”

“You’re… something alright.”

“She needs to know that I am here for her and that I care, and when he _undermines_ me like that then-”

“Braeden, what are you doing?”

Braeden has been pacing and finally looks at the wizened woman. She realizes that the shop probably closed a while ago, and that Berneice was probably waiting… for her.

“I can do this. I can handle anything, I can do anything, ok?” She says, not really sure of what the anything is she’s referring to, but also slowly realizing that it’s referring to... _everything_.

“Well recited, but it seems kind of flawed, doesn’t it?” Berneice says, not unkindly. She motions for Braeden to sit down. “It’s true, you can do almost anything, but you can’t do _everything_ by yourself.”

Braeden opens her mouth to say something, but finds she simply has nothing to say. So she sits, fidgeting with her hands a little before exhaling and looking back at Berneice who watches her patiently.

“Do you have friends?” Berneice asks.

Braeden huffs as though offended, “I’m staying with friends!”

“You’re staying in a hotel, baby. Lil miss told us all about them backflips.”

“I’ve met people in the hotel, I mean. I can be friendly.”

“So you have no friends-”

“I _just_ said-”

“The rest of your immediate family is gone-”

“Damn, this is a small town-”

“And you’re trying desperately to hold on to something that was never really yours to begin with.”

“You know, I don’t remember asking for this read, Berneice. Who asked you anyway?” Braeden should just go and be done with it, but something small in her keeps her planted. That little girl begging for discipline, order, some sort of stability.

Berneice shrugs lightly, grinning, “Well, no one extended a formal invitation I suppose, but living all these years that I have does come with a certain privilege.”

“Of giving unsolicited advice?” Braeden asks cheekily.

“Of long ago running out of fucks to give about what people think of it.” Berneice answers, completely unaffected by Braeden’s attitude. Braeden laughs and it catches her so off-guard she laughs again.

It sounds strange in her ears, feels weird to her throat, she laughs and it’s genuine and real, and she smiles and it’s not forced and tight, it’s not put on, or over exaggerated, it’s something she hasn’t been in a long time. It’s real.

“There it goes. I can see it crumbling, you know?” Berneice points to Braeden who’s collecting herself.

“What’s that?” She asks, fanning herself and dabbing at her eyes with her shirt.

“That chip on your shoulder.”

***

Braeden sighs slumping in her chair.

“I just… I want to matter.” Braeden exhales, “Why does _Stiles_ get to matter and I don’t?”

“Oh baby, you still can’t see past your own nose on this thing, but let me help you try to put it into perspective a bit, hmm?”

Braeden nods, bracing herself for what’s going to come next. Berneice leans forward.

“You’ve known that girl for what? 5 years? And you talk to her about once a month, right? That’s a grand total of 60 days, which amounts to about two months.”

“Wait, that’s… I mean, okay, but I could only talk to her once a month because of Derek, that wasn’t-”

“It still happened, and while it’s nice that you kept that call, you could have come home at anytime, but you kept your distance, didn’t you?”

Braeden sits back, thinking of all the times she could have come home, and all the excuses she made for why she didn’t.

“Stiles has been with that baby girl nearly every day for close to a year. Hundreds of them, hours at a time getting to know her and falling in love with her. She’s his family, and he’s hers and then out of nowhere her deadbeat mama comes in trying to stake some claim. You’ve got a real entitlement issue, Braeden. And you know you do, because you push rather than pull. You keep wanting people to invite you in, and beg for your presence, that you miss the welcome sign hanging above the front door.”

Braeden shivers, Berneice is right.

“I just have always been on my own. I don’t really gel with people if I don’t need to.” She says, finally seeing how sad and detached it’s made her feel over the years.

“You know that song _High Hopes_?”

Braeden shrugs, “Pink Floyd?”

Berneice laughs, “Child, no! Old blue eyes! Sinatra!”

“Damn, Ms. Berneice, how old are you?”

“ _The song_ ,” Berneice starts, ignoring Braeden’s laughing, “talks about how it’s easy to underestimate the little ant, but when you get a whole bunch of them suckers? They could probably move a house if they set they mind to it. They’re strong together! _Oops there goes another rubber tree plant!_ ”

Braeden scrunches her nose. “It sounds more like they need an exterminator.”

“Alright girl, Ms. Berneice is old and tired, get out of here and go handle your business.”

Braeden stands and walks to Ms. Berneice. She bends and hugs her, surprising the older woman a bit. She recovers quickly, patting the young lady on the back.

“Thank you, Ms. Berneice.”

“You’ve got a journey ahead of you, Braeden. I wish you luck on it.”

Braeden nods and leaves the store, heading back to Beacon Hills.

She pulls up to the pack house and from her angle she can see inside to the kitchen. Isaac, Boyd and Erica are all around the table with Derek and Stiles and two other people Braeden has never met. They’re laughing and talking and it’s everything she never though she had access to, never even thought to want, much less actually believe it was something she could have. But the light on the porch was on, like a beacon, calling her home. She turns off the car, and steels herself before heading towards the door.

She presses the bell and waits.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for 'baby steps' is done. Get your shit together.

A couple of moments go by and Derek answers the door, laughing. His face falters a bit when he sees her, but not completely which she takes as a good sign. 

“Hey, Derek. Can… can we talk?” She asks humbly. He looks at her for a moment and then nods. 

“Yeah, come on in.”

***

“I’m not ready for this.” She starts simply. They’re upstairs in his bedroom, away from the prying ears downstairs. When she came in everyone waved congenially enough. Stiles wouldn’t look at her until Derek went and kissed him on the cheek, whispering something in his ear. He looked at her then and she took the opportunity to mouth _‘I’m sorry’_. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all she had in that moment. Stiles nodded once and Derek led her up the stairs. On the way they passed Twyla’s room. Braeden looked in briefly and sighed before following Derek the rest of the way. 

They sat down on the edge of his bed, and that’s when she shared her truth. 

“When Melvin died, I felt everything. Grief, sadness, relief, anger, just… _everything._ I think when I got the news I was in some crappy hotel in Santa Fe, and I knew that if I were to die that moment, no one would know, Derek. No matter how many people I put away, how much good work I’d done, no matter what, I would disappear and probably become just a figment of someone’s imagination. I remember I’d just had my call with Twyla and thinking that no one would think to even look for me until I missed the next call. It was terrifying.”

Braeden is holding a little Orange Blossom doll in her lap that she picked up from an overstuffed chair. She guesses that’s Twyla’s chair. She hates that she doesn’t know, that she just doesn’t know. 

“I need help. I need a lot of help and I can’t do it and try to be a mother at the same time. I also can’t be like my dad, Derek. I can’t run in and out of her life.”

“You’re damned right you can’t.” Derek says, not unkindly. He exhales. 

“Braeden, this was always set as a visit. We’ve built the expectation that you would be here a little while and then you would go, and she gets that, and yes, we know that she’ll be hurt when you leave again, but we’ll deal with that. What we won’t deal with is a revolving door of you trying to get your shit together. You have to have it together, it’s not a choice, it’s not an option, it’s the rule, the number two rule.”

“What’s number one?”

“Love.”

“I… I’d like to talk with her more, maybe even, once a week? And I’d like to stay around, close, but maybe not too close? I can go to Sacramento, somewhere she’ll understand I’m nearby?” She shakes her head sadly, “I really fucked myself demanding to be mom, didn’t I?” She thinks idly to herself. Derek chuckles. 

“Yeah, you really blew your wad there. And caused a lot of grief in the process.”

“Derek, I’m so sorry.”

“I know. And it’s still a little rough, but I think we can work something out, okay? As long as you’re willing to work with us. What happened at the shop tonight was no okay, and I think you know that by now.”

“I do, I feel so foolish. _Uggh_ , and when I went back Berneice was waiting for me and I got sassy with her until she started talking to me about ants-”

“Ants?”

“Something about Sinatra? I’m going to YouTube it later, it was something about teamwork though. And I’ve never had that. I’ve always been alone and- you know what? No. I just, I’ve been really selfish and I don’t have an excuse.”

“Good, because there isn’t one. Not where that little girl is involved.”

“I get it, you’re completely right.”

“Really?” Derek says, looking at Braeden suspiciously who laughs. “Where was this Braeden a week ago? Or really, ever?”

Braeden rolls her eyes, “She was hiding behind a lot of unearned pride, misguided hubris, and bullshit apparently.” 

She flops on her back.

“Uggh, Derek, I’m so fucked up! I ran out on that sweet little girl and went and cried in the parking lot of a bar for two hours because I can’t deal with adults. I’ve been fucking up all week. How did you not wolf out on me?” 

Derek shrugs, “Twyla was happy. There were a couple of times she came home quiet. She felt like she was helping you.”

“Helping me?” Braeden asks, sitting up, “I don’t want to put that on her!” 

“She’s really good, Braeden.”

“In the parking lot I kept thinking of how much it was like the day I left, originally, you know? She was crying and I didn’t know what to do, and you swooped in and swaddled her, you just knew. And I felt so small and stupid. So I lied to myself that you didn’t want me there, and I left.”

“And I had no clue what I was doing. I read a million books and asked a million questions and spent a lot of time hating you and hiding it behind the baby. Using her as an excuse for not dealing with my anger towards you.”

Derek reaches under his bed and pulls out a box. He opens it and there are years of photos, pictures Twyla had drawn and even some arts and crafts. Braeden teas up. 

“Oh my god, _Derek_!” She says, pulling out a little bedazzled dreamcatcher.

“I think one place I could have done better was allowing you to get to _know_ Twyla, instead of just the idea of her. She’s an amazing little girl, and she’s that way _because_ of the two of us.”

“I know it pained you to say that, but no,” Braeden says, shaking her head seriously, “She’s that way because of you. And because of Stiles. I just taught her how to sass.”

“It can be a good trait in the right hands,” Derek says, winking at Braeden playfully. 

“Damn, how did something this perfect come from two fuckups like us?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue, but hey, it’s not all bad. She’s gorgeous, I’m going to have to literally wolf out on suitors when she gets older.”

“She gets her eyes from you, and she can do that Hale thing where she talks using only her eyebrows. Those things are lethal.”

“She’s amazing, Brae. She’s so smart, and she loves to sing and dance.”

“Oh, and she’s good too! She sang Marvin Gaye at the shop. Where’d she get that from? I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

“Well, she definitely gets that from me.” 

Braeden furrows her brow and then hears a throat clear from the doorway. She looks and sees Stiles standing there shaking his head. 

“I’m so sorry for interrupting, I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was just coming to make sure everything was okay. I was just going to peek in and leave, but I can’t let that statement stand.”

“What statement?” Derek asks innocently. Braeden can’t help her smile as Stiles exhales in faux exhaustion. 

“Babe, your delusions of grandeur regarding your artistic ability are approaching dangerous levels.”

“What? Delusions? I can sing!” 

Stiles walks into the room and perches on Derek’s lap, wrapping his arms around the wolf’s shoulder. 

“You’re… _fine_ , Der. And I say this as someone who loves you, oh so very much.”

Derek _tsks_ and shakes his head, “Whatever, you’re obviously crazy. Let’s not fight though…”

“Oh, Derek, no!” Braeden shouts, seeing it coming. Stiles looks between both confused and suddenly gets it, but it’s too late. 

“ _Let’s get along_!”

***

Derek invites Braeden to stay and eat and she goes downstairs and says hello to everyone. She joins in the conversation, but not being a hot mess is new to her so she calls it a night early. She promises to pick up Twyla the next day and Derek and Stiles agree.

She arrives at the salon and looks around noticing that Twyla is nowhere to be seen. She looks at Stiles who is sitting at his station. 

“Where is she? I was supposed to pick her up and then take her home, right?”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, from school, Brae. It’s Friday, she has soccer.”

“Fuck!” She yells, shocking everyone in the shop. She’s too preoccupied digging through her purse for her keys that she misses the looks around her. 

“You are gonna owe Twyla all the quarters for that one!” Marie says, finally snapping Braeden out of it. Braeden looks around, how come no one else is freaking out about this? She finally was in a good place with Derek and with Stiles and she had _one_ fucking thing to do and she fucked up and she can’t do this.

“I can’t do this!” She yells, flopping in a chair and bursting into tears. Stiles looks at Marie who shrugs and looks at Ms. Berneice who gives them both the stink eye before turning to Braeden. 

“Sweetheart, pull yourself together, baby.”

“I had _one_ job and I can’t even do that right! And now my baby is gonna be all alone and think no one is coming for her because by the time I get there it will be too late and-”

“Braeden!” Stiles interrupts, flailing out his arms, “Just call Derek! He had a meeting near the school, he’s fine to pick her up.”

“ _What_?!” She wheezes in between sobs.

“Bitch, what have we been trying to teach you this whole time?!” Stiles yells at her. She glomps while Berneice swats at him.

“Stiles, boy, you betta watch-”

“It takes a lot of ants to move the rubber tree!” Braeden says, reaching over and grabbing Berneice’s hand. Berneice… shrugs and sits back in her chair. Stiles is confused.

“What?”

Marie cracks up and Braeden can’t help her smirk, and then her smile, and then her laughter. 

Stiles shakes his head. 

“I don’t know what any of that means, but we’re not just Twyla’s parents, we’re her team and we work together to make her the happiest girl in the world. You’re not alone in this.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re still learning.” Berneice pipes in, squeezing Braeden’s hand. “Sit back and soak it in or you're gonna miss raising your baby.” 

Braeden blows her nose and then sighs. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’ll never learn, or get it right. I’m never going to be as good of a mom as she deserves.”

“Trying to be what she deserves is a lot of pressure.” Stiles says kidnly, “She deserves the world. Why don’t you start a little smaller? Try to be the thing that won’t fuck her up for decades.” Braeden takes it in stride. 

“So you just have all the answers, don’t you?” She asks cheekily, but with no malice. He shakes his head. 

“Hell no! I just know how to ask for help, and I know how to take it when I get it.”

Braeden nods, thinking about how much Twyla loves Stiles. She hopes she can get on that list someday. She wonders if maybe she already is. Wouldn’t that be something?

“So that’s it then. You’re her mom?”

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes as Marie shoves his shoulder. 

“Ooh Mama Stiles! I like it!” She says playfully. Stiles flips her off.

“Listen I get what everyone’s trying to do, but I’m a _boy_ with _boy parts_! She called me papa for the first time ever the other day and I cried like a baby, so _no_ , I am not the new mom. I am another person in the collective of people who love Twyla. If you’re not able to be the mom, Braeden, that’s fine, you can still love her though. Even if you can’t handle the full mom responsibility, the only person putting that pressure on you is yourself.

“The position of _mom_ for you is still too loaded. If you wanna be a _mom_ then do it, but don’t do it to spite me or to prove something to Derek or yourself. Do it because you love the hell out of that little girl. That’s the only way this works.”

Braeden nods. “Thanks, Stiles. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch... to everyone,” she says, indicating the rest of the people in the room, “but especially to you, Stiles.”

Stiles grins, “as much as Derek said otherwise last week, you’re not a bitch.” Braeden laughs and Stiles shrugs. “You’re just hurt, and I get that. I’m glad you’re trying to work on it though, and I’m happy you and I are better now. You being a bitch to me was pissing off Derek and he was taking out his rage on my ass.”

“Oh my go- nope, not gonna do this with you!” Marie says. She tries to get up and leave, but Stiles grabs her. 

“Hey! I’m not complaining, but ain’t nobody got time for that, remember that day I came in limping?”

“I hate you so much!” Marie screams as Stiles kisses her on the cheek. Braeden laughs and laughs. 

Braeden calls Derek and explains about the mixup. He’s perfectly fine and tells her he’ll pick up Twyla and meet them at the pack house. 

Braeden stays at the salon a bit longer and then heads to the house. When she gets there, she walks in and asks Twyla if she’ll show her her room and tell her about her day. Twyla beams. It’s like she’s completely forgotten the transgressions of the day before, but Braeden knows from experience she hasn’t. 

“Twyla, baby, we need to talk.”

Braeden sits cross-legged on Twyla’s bed and is holding her Orange Blossom doll close to her chest. Twyla sits across from her. 

“First off, I’m soooo sorry about yesterday. I was being very selfish and I shouldn’t have left. There’s no excuse.”

“Thank you for saying sorry.” Twyla says sweetly, her green eyes radiating warmth and love, “I thought you were hurt, or you would get lost.”

“I know baby, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. Sweetie, when you think of a family, what do you think of?”

Twyla ponders the question for a moment. She’s always been analytical and Braeden can’t wait to see how that plays out in her future. 

“I think of daddy and papa!” She says, smiling brightly. “Oh, and you?” She adds on, almost asking. Braeden shakes her head. 

“That’s okay, honey. Any answer is right, now I want you to think more about who else is in your family.”

“Oh! Well there’s Uncle Boyd and Auntie Erica and Auntie Cora, and there’s Nana Boyd and Grampy Boyd and Uncle Isaac who is my puppy, and now there’s Auntie Lydia and Uncle Jackson -they keep Isaac when he’s not with us- and there’s Titi Bernie and Ms. Marie and Jeanquisha-”

“Okay, honey, wow! That’s a lot of people huh?!”

Twyla nods very matter-of-factly. “I love them all!” 

Braeden nods. “You see, honey, when I was growing up, my family was my mom. And then she got sick and she went away. So it was just me. You were the only family I thought I had left. So I came here, but I made a mistake.”

“You did? Was I-” Twyla says, clearly misinterpreting the statement, Braeden holds in a curse and shakes her head.

“No! No, no, no, you’re the most perfect, most right thing I’ve ever done, ok?!” 

Twyla nods and listens carefully. 

“Sweetie, you’re so young, and you might not understand this, but I called myself your mom when I wasn’t ready to be your mom. I love you so very much, but because I didn’t have that same love when I was growing up, it means it’s taken me a little longer to really be a mom to you. Does… does any of that make sense?”

“I think so.” Twyla says softly, “I wasn’t ready to backflip,” She confesses, “but I did it to impress you. I did it, and it was _okay_ , but I was more scared than I thought and I wish I would have waited until daddy or papa were there. Is it like that?” 

Braeden is astounded at how much the girl gets it, and saddened at how obviously broken Braeden herself is. She wanted Twyla to backflip so it’d be something she could say Braeden taught her. She knew Twyla was scared, but Braeden thought she was building character, not scarring her daughter. She had a long ways to go. 

“Yes, my love. It’s like that. So, I have to go and get my stuff together. And I’m going to leave you here in good hands with your family that loves you so much and when I come back, maybe I can do this right.”

Twyla nods, “I knew you would have to leave soon for work.” She says matter-of-factly. Like she’s been steeling herself for it, “Will we still talk?”

“Yes! I talked to your daddy… _and_ your papa, and they said I can call once a week now!”

“Really?! That’s a lot more than before!” Twyla exclaims happily. Braeden nods excitedly. 

“And I can send you letters, and postcards and really, whatever you like! How… how does that sound?”

Twyla wrings her hand slightly and then exhales. “You sometimes look sad, and lost. If you leave, will you be able to find your way back?”

Braeden feels a tear run down her face, but she nods.

“That’s the plan, buttercup. Remember I told you that I find people for a living? Well, now I need to find myself.”

“Okay. I’ll miss you, but if you take Orange Blossom with you, maybe it won’t be so bad?” Twyla says, pushing her doll into Braeden’s lap. Braeden’s tears overflow and she can’t stop smiling. 

“I’ll miss you everyday, my love. But I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to, okay? And I will be back. I can’t promise in what capacity, but I will be back and I’ll love you so much.”

“I love you, Brae.”

“I love you, Twy!” Braeden grabs the little girl and hugs her closely. She probably holds her for too long, or too tight she guesses, but Twyla lets her, and it’s okay. 


	13. She can do this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can do this.

The next year for Braeden Yvonne Grenier went like this:

She moves to Sacramento and gets a nice apartment downtown. Stiles gave her the name of his therapist while he was there and she arranges a visit. It’s not a good fit, she feels unheard and then she gets a call for a job that would take her into the desert. She contemplates going and then she gets her call from Twyla. 

“Hi, Brae!” Twyla says cheerfully. Her hair is in braids today with little yellow beads at the end. They make noise when she moves and she whispers to Braeden that they’re making daddy crazy and he’s pretend mad at papa. 

“Why do you say _‘pretend’_ , honey?” Braeden asks, holding the Orange Blossom doll tightly in her lap.

“Because papa pouts and daddy kisses him and then they go take a nap and when they come back everyone is happy. They take a lot of naps. What’s so funny?” Twyla asks as Braeden falls back on the bed laughing. 

She decides to stay put and learns her building has community events. She goes to one and meets a few new people, a couple of which even live on her floor. She starts a conversation with a woman name Tenetria and gets the recommendation for a new therapist. Braeden goes and after three visits it’s as if her soul has exhaled. 

She cries, a _lot_. And sometimes she still gets angry and still feels entitled, fucks up. Sometimes it’s the wrong turn, the wrong man. Once it was the wrong woman and that was _interesting_ , but instead of running away she works on herself. Sometimes she’s so tired she can barely get out of bed, other times she has so much excess energy she feels like she could run a marathon. The days in between she heals. 

She’s contacted a couple of her siblings. And they’re nice, they’ll stay distant for now, but they seem open to her which is its own sort of development. She takes a small job, some guy they think is holding a group of women hostage in Redding. She ends up getting captured in Eureka and finds a way to send message to Derek. Stiles contacts his old pack in Folsom and they help rescue Braeden and apprehend the man.

While Braeden is in the hospital, Tenetria comes to visit. She’s a banshee herself, on her grandmother’s side and has been sort of a satellite member of the pack in Folsom. “ _I knew something drew me to you,”_ the young woman with the cocoa skin and red tinged hair told her, “ _I’m glad you’re so nice!”_ Braeden smiles, knowing a year ago at this time she would be rotting by herself in a hospital, being waited on by a staff that would not share the same sentiment. 

Derek and Stiles get married. Braeden couldn’t go, but it was okay because Stiles sent her a ton of pictures and video. Twyla was the ring presenter and Stiles held her in his arms while he and Derek said their vows. She danced until she fell asleep on the floor, huddled up like a puppy. Braeden made the picture the screensaver on her laptop. 

A few more months go by, more quickly than she anticipated, but she handles it. It felt like she was running with the time and not against it, or away from it. 

She drives up the 50 and takes her normal exit towards Beacon Hills to go to Derek’s house. She’ll be staying there the few days she’s in town, and she’s back for a very important occasion. 

“ _Cheers for Ms. Berneice!_ ”

“ _Hip hip! Hooray_!”

The hall explodes into laughter and cheers as Ms. Berneice Holloway sits on her decorated throne holding a bouquet of flowers and crying like a baby. She’s laughing too. 

“Y’all this is too much!” Ms. Berneice shouts as people come up to her, giving hugs and kisses. Ms. Berneice was celebrating her retirement from working full-time at the shop. 

“Y’all act like I won’t be there everyday anyway!” She says, petulantly, but secretly loving the outpouring. “I haven’t set a hot comb to head in years, but I guess there’s no bad reason to have a party is there? C’mon y’all, let’s dance!”

The dance floor is wild and it’s a gorgeous affair. Braeden takes in the scene around her. Isaac and Lydia are dancing as Jackson vogues in a circle around them. Braeden still can’t fully wrap her head around that, but she can’t argue with how happy they all look. She asked Twyla if she missed her puppy and she said yes, but it was okay because Uncle Boyd and Aunt Erica were going to have one for her to help take care of soon. Braeden looks over at their table. Erica is very pregnant and chair dancing with Boyd behind her giving her kisses as they sway. 

Derek is… moving in some way that resembles a line dance that Marie is trying to show him. His eyes are closed and he’s clearly free-styling as Stiles and Marie look on in shock and disbelief. Derek doesn’t mind, Twyla is cheering him on and laughing and finally Stiles shrugs and jumps in. Marie tries to walk away, but they corral her in at the last minute. Braeden watches and shakes her head grinning. 

Braeden cycles around the room, meeting Berneice’s family and friends. The hall is full, there has to be at least a 100 people there just to celebrate her. Warmth and laughter fill the room to overwhelming and Braeden stands in the middle, allowing it to wash over her. 

“Quite the affair, isn’t it?” a voice says behind her. She opens her eyes and turns to see a tall man with a light brown hair and a wicked grin peering at her. His eyes were sparkling blue and he carried with him an air of mischief. She liked him.

“Ms. Berneice is quite the woman. It fits.” Braeden says simply. And she’s right. Blacks, golds and purples decorate the halls as the light is reflected from the spinning chandelier in the middle. It was like being inside a lighted forest at twilight, or a ‘70s dance club, both of which Ms. Berneice seems like she would frequent. 

“I’m Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle.” the man introduces himself, holding out a warm hand to Braeden. “I couldn’t help but notice the uncanny resemblance you have to my beautiful and gifted great niece. You wouldn’t happen to be Braeden, would you?”

“I would, though, tell me again, it was her beauty _and_ skills that made you think we might be related?” She teases. Peter takes it in stride. 

“Well when I looked over here, I thought, _now there goes a woman that looks like she knows her way around a multiplication table_!” Braeden laughs as Peter kisses her hand. “Would you like to dance?”

“I would.”

They dance and chat and soon Derek and Stiles are twirling around the dance floor next to them. Derek shakes his head. 

“Don’t do it, Brae. That right there is a mistake.” He says, indicating towards his uncle. Braeden grins as Peter gasps in mock offense. 

“Why nephew, surely you of all people know the strides I’ve made. I’m practically a model citizen!” 

“Yeah, boo,” Stiles says, his arms wrapped around Derek’s neck, “and let’s be real, if I had seen him before you, that’s a mistake I would have made several different times, in several different positions.”

“Why do you think I never introduced you?” Derek deadpans as Stiles yelps out a laugh. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Derek, I would never actively court one of your paramours, I’m not that type of-” 

Derek clears his throats and raises his eyebrows before cocking his head towards Braeden. Peter gulps. 

“Present company… _excluded?_ ” 

“That still means you would have dicked me down, dude.” Stiles points out. Peter shrugs. 

“I know.”

“Oh look, something over there!” Derek says, nearly lifting Stiles off the ground and twirling the cackling young man away. 

On the right, Ms. Marie and Berneice dance by. 

“Who’s the mistake now? Him? Because that’s a mistake I wouldn’t mind figuring out until I got it right, I’m just saying.” Marie says winking at Braeden and putting on her best grin for Peter.

“How about you, Ms. Bernie, any solicited advice?” Braeden asks the uncharacteristically quiet woman. 

“Birth control.” Ms. Berneice says as she leads Marie away. Braeden is laughing as Peter shakes his head. 

“Though my reputation obviously precedes me, I assure you, I’m not as wild as I once was.” Peter says, almost bashfully. Braeden shrugs sweetly. 

“Well, Peter, speaking as someone who has a lot of experience with reputations, I can tell you that I’ve learned not everything is as it seems at first glance. I’m willing to look deeper, if you are.”

Peter raises a brow and nods before dropping her into a dip. She feels her heart flutter to the rhythm of the way the light catches in his eyes. He brings her back up. 

“I’m all for looking deeper, Ms. Grenier.”

The night progresses and food and drink are plentiful. The toasts leave no dry eye in the house and the room is filled with an ongoing wave of sentiment and good feelings. Berneice sits at her throne with Twyla beside her as her own little lady-in-waiting. Twyla hands her the mic.

“Y’all, you don’t know what it means to an old woman like me to be in a place filled with so many loved ones.” She says, looking around the room at the smiling faces, both young and old. “I am ------ years old, and-”

“Wait! The mic cut out, say that part again!” Stiles yells from his table, indicating the feedback while Ms. Bernie said her age. Everyone laughs as Ms. Bernie patently ignores him. 

“-and, I never thought that one of the greatest achievements of my life would be running a little local hair salon. For forty-five years-”

“Write that down, bear, we’re getting closer!” Stiles hisses to Derek who wraps his arms around his waist and nuzzles his neck. Stiles starts to huff, but instead starts scratching Derek behind the ear. 

“-this shop has exposed me to the best and brightest these little towns have to offer. I never had any children of my own, and I’m blessed at how big of a family I have despite that.” Braeden looks around the room; she knows she met several people that call Ms. Berneice _‘mama’_ , or _‘grammy’_ , but she also remembers that Twyla calls Ms. Berneice _‘titi’_. She takes a soothing breath and thinks about her own mother, and she grins. 

“And you’ll never know my real age, Stiles. I’ve made sure it won’t even appear on my tombstone. Just think of me as timeless.” She says, causing the man in question to throw his arms up as nearby tables start throwing napkins at him. Braeden realizes that Stiles is in line to be the next pillar of their little community, and maybe Twyla will be next, who knows what the future holds? For once, Braeden feels hopeful for it. 

“I couldn’t have made it this far without you all. It takes a village of love to accomplish our dreams and goals and I’m so blessed that I have that in you. Together we can do anything, if I’ve learned anything in this old age, that’s it. And with that, my little miss and I are gonna leave you with a little song that has a special place in my heart. Twyla baby.” She motions for Twyla who comes and stands by Ms. Berneice. 

“Is it the _Let’s Get Along_ one?” She asks, prompting snickers from a few of the tables. Peter leans in to Braeden, 

“Isn’t it...”

“Nope, not to the 8 year old curious little girl, unless you wanna explain what ‘ _getting it on_ ’ is.” Braeden cautions, “Trust me, I learned that the hard way.” She meets eyes with Derek who winks and grins. 

“No, child! That’s for another time, don’t worry though, you know this one! 

_So any time your gettin' low_

_'Stead of lettin' go_ ”

Stiles furrows his brow, “Is this… _High Hopes_? Is this a callback?”

“ _Just remember that ant!”_

Twyla’s face lights up as she looks over at Braeden who sits up and nods excitedly. 

“Sing it, Twyla!” She shouts, and Twyla grabs the mic.

“ _Oops there goes another rubber tree plant_!”

Braeden laughs and claps and suddenly people at every table join in.

“ _Cause he’s got high hopes!_ ”

“Is this party turning into a really old school ep of _Glee_? What is happening? How do people know this song?” Stiles asks in awe, Derek shrugs,

“- _High as an apple pie in the-”_ on _‘sky- hopes’_ Derek kisses Stiles’ cheek who shakes his head and shrugs, joining in.

“ _Oops there goes another rubber tree_ -” Peter bangs on the table and sings along with Braeden. 

“ _Oops there goes another rubber tree_ -” Marie adds some good old fashioned gospel melisma for effect.

“ _Ooops there goes another rubber tree plant_!” Twyla bops around and screams as everyone cheers and Berneice laughs and laughs. 

Braeden thinks about how many nights she fell asleep to that song playing in her ears, tears falling onto her pillow as she fell apart. She thinks about how a year ago she was so bitter and broken, and now… she might just be home. 

The night carries on and soon most of the party are back at Derek’s house. Twyla is asleep and Marie just took Ms. Berneice home along with Mr. & Mrs. Boyd. Mrs. Boyd told Stiles to make sure he told ‘lil Vernie’ that she’d see him in the morning for church. Stiles assures that he’ll pass on the message, and then proceeds to do so over and over until Boyd threatens to put in a headlock. 

Braeden and Peter talk on the back porch until he decides to go back to his loft. They make plans for brunch the next day and soon it’s just Braeden, Stiles and Derek in the kitchen, nursing mugs of tea and talking about their day. 

She communicates with them often, so they know a lot about her journey. They don’t judge and they give good advice when she needs it. They’ve built a friendship based on more than just a family tree line and it’s something so important to her. 

“So what are your plans, next, Brae?” Derek asks. He’s sitting with his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles is leaning comfortably into him. They’re perfect together. 

“I don’t really have anything planned, which is nice. I used to have to fill up space so I could avoid all my bullshit, but I have less bullshit now, and that’s… weird, but refreshing at the same time.” Braeden grins as Stiles chuckles. “I might be around for a little bit, if that’s okay. I’m interested to see where this Peter thing goes, he’s been talking about traveling.”

“He’s pretty smitten with you.” Stiles says sleepily. He yawns, “he designed our bathroom.” Braeden isn’t sure how the two are connected, but she likes knowing he’s handy.

“Not that discussing the prospect of you dating my uncle isn’t exciting-”

“Boo, age ain’t nothin’ but a number when it comes to love! Besides, he’s hot.” Stiles says, thumping Derek on the chest. Derek shakes his head and then he and Stiles have a private conversation with their eyebrows. It’s a trait Stiles has picked up since becoming a Hale. He sits up. 

“Oh! Umm, hey, Brae, we.. we kind of have something we want to talk to you about.”

Braeden looks between them and nods. 

“Okay.”

***

 

She watches as his papa swaddles him, ever so gently, concentrating hard on trying to tuck the blanket just right to make the baby feel safe and secure. His husband helps, providing support, but otherwise letting his mate take the lead. He holds his son close to him and then crowds in his husband so they can both see his precious sleeping face. Stiles can barely believe such a thing exists. He gets that babies are things, but this baby is _the_ thing, he’s… he’s _everything_. He’s their everything. 

His, and Derek’s and Twyla’s, and Braeden’s. Stiles’ parents, Melissa and John, were at the pack house readying the nursery. Ms. Berneice is out in the hall ordering food for everyone who came to visit and see the baby. They named the little boy Jonathan Melvin Hale after Stiles’ father and Brae’s. She balked at first at the naming, but then decided that someone should do something good with the name. And maybe with all the love surrounding him, this Mel would make a better showing at life. 

Twyla is watching from the bed, holding Braeden’s hand. She understands the little squirming package is her little brother, and she can’t wait to love him the way she loves her cousins that Erica had just a few months prior. Peter walks in with a cup of crushed ice for Braeden and puts Twyla on his lap. Together they flip through a book called “ _I’m a Big Sister!_ ” and Twyla tells him about what she’s learned. 

Peter told Braeden he wasn’t one for kids personally and he preferred to live vicariously through his nieces and nephews. When Stiles and Derek asked if Braeden would donate an egg, or go through the in vitro process, he was tremendously supportive. 

In about 8 weeks, after she’s weaned the boy, she and Peter will be on a plane to Tibet. They’ll travel the country and she’ll call in constantly and tell her family about her experiences. When Johnny is old enough, they’ll explain that Braeden is something like an eccentric traveling aunt, just in _this_ case, she also gave birth to him. And she loves him very much and can’t wait to visit. 

And it will be okay. She looks at the room surrounded by the people who are all connected first and foremost by love, and with her own sort of finality settling in her expression, she sighs. 

Then she grins. 

She can do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap we did it! Thank you soooo much for coming on this journey with me. This story meant a lot to me. What started as a fun way to give Derek some black babies (I mean!), ended up as a way to really work though Braeden as a character and the ways I connected with her. Your feedback and comments were amazing and I appreciate them so much!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> Stay tuned, sterek week is upon us and I have ~plans. See you then, and tell a friend!


End file.
